CHAPTER ELEVEN


In which Kevin meets an unusual aristocrat and Jeremy receives an invitation.


Kevin

On Wednesday after school I went to Silvio’s house. He lived in one of the estates on the edge of the town and he didn’t go to my school, so I wasn’t sure how to get there. But eventually I worked out which bus to take and in any case Silvio didn’t seem too bothered that I was a bit late.

“Chris says you’re supposed to do anything I tell you. Is that right?” he asked.

“Well, I suppose so.”

“He says usually people make you clean their boots, so you can do that, I suppose. Come on.”

He took me up to his bedroom, dug into a bag and handed me a rather muddy pair of football boots.

“We had Games this afternoon, so the mud should still be wet, and usually it comes off easiest like that. I’ve got some old newspaper somewhere…”

He dug a copy of the local paper out from under his bed, spread it out on the floor, and handed me a battered table-knife.

“I’ve got some homework to do,” he said, “so you can just get on with it. Shout if you need anything.”

He went and sat at a desk and I got on with cleaning the boots. As he’d said, the mud came off easily, and it didn’t take very long.

“Where can I go to wash them?” I asked.

“Wash them? I never bother with that. They look fine as they are. Okay, wrap up the mud in the paper and go and chuck it in the bin.”

When I go back from doing that the boots were no longer in sight and he was back at his desk.

“I don’t think there’s anything else I need doing,” he said, “so you can go.”

Well, that seemed far too easy.

“Okay,” I said. “You don’t need any help with your homework?”

“Not really. Tonight it’s mostly copying up notes and stuff. Thanks for offering, though.”

“Okay,” I said. “See you on Friday, then,” and I left him to it. If everyone I ended up working for was as easy to please as that, I thought, I wouldn’t mind at all.

Thursday turned out to be almost as easy, because for once Jason had made one of his sarcastic remarks a little too loudly and was in detention. I went home with Luke and cleaned his boots and then took them back up to the bedroom.

“Nice job,” he said. “Seriously. I suppose I really can’t punish you tonight – and, besides, it’s not as much fun as it is when Jase is here… but I suppose it would be a pity to waste the evening. Let’s get undressed.”

I’d been prepared to be told to strip, but that ‘let’s‘ came as a surprise.

Once we were both naked – and he had an erection when his pants came off – he lay down on the bed and told me to rub it for him, and so I lay down beside him, took hold of his small cock and started to rub it.

“That’s nice,” he said. “You do it better than Jase, anyway.”

“Well, he’s only done it for you once, and he probably isn’t used to it.”

“He’s done it a lot more than once. Whenever we play video games now we have a rule that the loser has to wank the winner off. And I’m way better at most games than he is. Of course I sometimes do it for him even when I win, because I really like him doing it to me and I don’t want him to get so pissed off with losing that he refuses to do it any more, although somehow I don’t think that’s going to happen…. Anyway, he’s getting better at it, but I like the way you do it best. Could you go a bit faster?”

I went a bit faster, thinking that this was useful information that I would certainly mention if Jason ever annoyed me too much.

“Yes, like that… you know, I think Jase actually enjoys doing it for me. He gets really hard when he’s doing it. And if I don’t do it for him afterwards, and I don’t always, he always does it to himself. I make him do it here, in the bedroom, so I can watch. He says he doesn’t like me watching, but I know he does, and when I tease him about how long it takes him to get there, or how small he is for his age, it seems to make him more excited, somehow. If he didn’t like it he’d certainly try to duff me up afterwards, but he never does. And he never says no when I challenge him to a game, either, even if he knows it’s a game where I’m loads better than he is. I’m starting to think he enjoys losing.”

“You could find out,” I suggested. “Next time you play, pick a game where you always win and say that the loser has to do anything the winner tells him to for half an hour. If he agrees to that you’ll know he enjoys being made to do what you tell him. Then, over the next week or so, you make him do worse and worse things until he says no – and then you’ll know exactly how far you can go. If you’re right you might get quite a long way before he rebels.”

“Yeah!” His eyes lit up. “That’s definitely a good idea – I’ll try that next time we play. All right, don’t stop now, because I’m nearly there…”

Thirty seconds or so later he arched his back and climaxed in what seemed to be a highly satisfactory way.

“Nice one, Kev,” he said, rolling off the bed and starting to get dressed. “Okay, your turn: get it good and hard and then we can see how long it takes you.”

It was already fairly hard, but I got it a bit stiffer and started to rub it, but after a few seconds he sat down beside me, pushed my hand away from it and grabbed it himself.

“I want to see if I can get as much out as when you do it yourself,” he told me. “Let’s find out.”

By now I didn’t find this embarrassing at all – in fact it felt great, and so I just relaxed and enjoyed it. I’m not sure whether he actually got more out than I do on my own, but it felt way better, and in any case he was completely satisfied with the outcome.

When we got home from football practice on Friday evening our father was already there, so we ate a proper supper with him while he asked how we’d been getting on while he was away.

“No problems at all,” Chris told him. “Everything’s gone really smoothly.”

“And has Chris been behaving himself?” I was asked.

“I can’t complain,” I replied, which was of course true, at least if I didn’t want certain films of me to pass into the public domain. “Actually I haven’t had to tell him to do anything – he does everything that needs doing without being asked.”

“I’m glad to hear it.,” he said, and Chris gave me a surreptitious nod when he wasn’t looking.

We spoke for a while about what we wanted to do over the weekend. We had a game on the Sunday morning, of course, and I’d also arranged to continue with Lee and Freddie’s ‘tuition’ on Saturday morning, though I said I wouldn’t mind cancelling that. But Father said that a commitment was a commitment, and in any case he was impressed that I was prepared to use my knowledge to help others (I was supposedly helping with their French, as well as teaching Lee to play chess). We could go out in the afternoon, he said.

Lee had spoken to me at the end of practice and given me an address. “It’s Freddie’s place, and his parents will be out shopping tomorrow,” he’d told me. “So we can have a proper lesson… you know…”. He’d actually blushed at that point, which I’d found kind of sweet.

So on Saturday morning I caught the bus into town and then another one heading south, arriving at Freddie’s place just after half past nine, as arranged…


Freddie

I’d been looking forward to this all week. Lee and I hadn’t had a chance to practise what we’d learned the previous week, because although I had been round to his house one evening after school his mother kept hovering round us and so we didn’t dare do anything we weren’t supposed to. I wouldn’t normally have been allowed to stay at home on a Saturday morning, either: normally when my parents go to do the shopping I have to go with them. But this morning I had a good excuse to stay at home, because I had someone older to look after me…

Anyway, I’d geeked myself up as much as I could, choosing the ugliest tie I own, wearing a sleeveless sweater over it and putting loads of gel into my hair to emphasise the parting, so that I looked like some of those pictures you see in books about the RAF during the Second World War. Lee, of course, was also wearing a tie – I don’t think his mother ever lets him out of the house without one – and so when we opened the door to Kevin we looked even more like the Geekoid Brothers than usual.

“You look like you’re in one of those historical programs on telly, like ‘Reliving the War’, or whatever it’s called,” Kevin told me. “Except I don’t think boys of your age wore long trousers in the 1940s. You’ll need to get some shorts and some long woollen socks. And a cap.”

“I’m trying to look like a modern geek, not a boy from 1945,” I told him. “Although I suppose it might be interesting to try to look like a kid from seventy years ago. I think the glasses are right, anyway. Maybe I’ll do some research on how to be a kid from the war years.”

“You wouldn’t have a computer, for a start,” he pointed out, “and so you might find it a bit harder to find out about sex. Are your parents out, or something?”

“Yes, they’ve gone shopping. They won’t be back until just before twelve. And my sister went to a sleepover last night, so we probably won’t see her until about supper time”

“What, and they left you here on your own? They must really trust you.”

“Not really. I’ve got a baby-sitter – at least, that’s what they call it. You’d better come and meet him.”

He didn’t look too happy about that, and I suppose I can understand why: when you hear the word ‘baby-sitter’ you tend to think of a girl in her late teens, whereas mine…

I led Kevin into our front room.

“This is the Honourable Henry Latimer,” I told him. “He’s my cousin.”

Henry isn’t all that impressive to look at. All right, he’s taller than me and Lee, but he’s sort of weedy and you’d never believe he’s more than eighteen months older than we are.

“Is he the cousin you mentioned last week?” asked Kevin.

“That’s the one.”

“Why, what has he been saying about me?” asked Henry. His accent is even posher than mine and Lee’s, but his voice hasn’t even started to change and he sounds about as weedy as he looks.

“Oh, nothing much,” I told him. “I just mentioned you in passing, that’s all. So, Kevin, what are we going to learn about today?”

“Well…” He hesitated, looking at Henry.

“Oh, don’t worry about Henry,” I said. “You can trust him. Like I said, he’s an Honourable, and if you can’t trust one of those, who can you trust?”

“What does that mean exactly?” asked Kevin.

“His father’s a Lord, and so as the eldest son he’s The Honourable. He’ll be a Lord himself when his father dies, so he’s proper aristocracy, and that makes him a gentleman. And gentlemen never break their word, do they, Henry?”

“Not very often,” said Henry, grinning at me.

“If you break your word to me, Lee and I will bash your head in,” I told him.

There probably aren’t too many people in the world that Lee and I could actually beat up, but Henry is so weedy that even the Geekoid Brothers could probably do him over. Not that we’d ever have to, of course: seriously, I trust Henry. He’s sound.

“I thought you were at boarding school?” Kevin asked him.

“I am, but they let us out now and again. I’ve got an exeat for this weekend, anyway. Freddie told me a bit about you, and I wanted to meet you.”

“I hope you haven’t been telling everyone about this,” said Kevin, looking less than happy.

“Of course not – Henry’s the only one. But he happened to mention sex education lessons and how he doesn’t get any, and so, since the subject had come up…”

“Well, okay,” said Kevin. “But no more, all right? If anyone else turns up for a lesson I’m going straight home. I’d get into serious trouble if any of your parents found out about this.”

“They won’t. Anyway, come up to my room so we can use the computer. Did you manage to find any pictures for us?”

“Yes, a few,” he said, and I’m sure I felt my heart speed up: we were actually going to see some proper pictures of naked people! I almost ran up the stairs to my room and had turned the computer on even before the others caught up with me.

I ushered Kevin into the chair in front of the computer, while the rest of us sat on the bed, from where we could see the screen clearly.

“Okay,” said Kevin, taking a flash drive from his pocket and plugging it in, “today we’ll see what happens at puberty. Like I said before, it’s when you start to change from a boy into a man. I don’t know about Henry, but neither of you two has really started puberty yet. It can start anywhere between ten and fifteen or even sixteen, but around twelve to thirteen is when most people start noticing things changing. So, do you want to start with boys or girls?”

I looked at Lee and Henry.

“Boys,” I said. “We probably ought to know what’s going to happen to us before we worry about what happens with girls.”

“Okay. Well, you already know that boys don’t all look the same, even before puberty: some are bigger, some are smaller, some have skin over the end and some don’t. I know that Lee and Freddie look different from each other: what about Henry?”

“His one is small,” I told him. “And he hasn’t got any skin on the end, either. He looks like Lee, only a bit smaller.”

“Right. Well, let’s have a look at some photos, then.”

I leaned forward, both because I wanted to see the screen clearly and because my thing had got hard and I didn’t want the others to see it pushing my trousers out. Kevin opened his folder and clicked on the first icon, and the screen was filled with a picture of a boy of about my age, getting out of the sea. And you could see everything! Actually there wasn’t very much to see – his thing was smaller than mine, and his balls were tight up against his body.

“Bear in mind he’s been swimming, so probably when he’s dry and warm it looks bigger,” said Kevin. “More like these three, perhaps.”

Wow, I thought: I’d never let anyone take a photo of me like that! There were three boys in this photo, their arms around each other with everything on display. The boy in the middle was a bit younger and his thingy was small, but the other two looked almost exactly like me.

“Some boys look like Lee,” said Kevin, putting up a picture of a boy whose thing had no skin on the end. “But apart from the lack of skin, there’s not a lot of difference.

“Not everyone starts out the same size. In this photo the boys are probably all different ages, but their penises are all about the same size. And in this picture the boys are the same age, but one is a lot bigger than the other. Again, it’s normal, and it really doesn’t matter if it’s a bit bigger or a bit smaller.

“Anyway, all those pictures were taken before puberty starts. As for girls, there really isn’t a lot to see before puberty,” and he put up a couple of pictures of girls of around our age. “Their breasts haven’t started growing, so their chests look the same as a boy’s, and further down there’s just this sort of fold of skin. Those two girls look about the same.

“As they get older their breasts start to grow – in this picture you can see a little swelling, and at the same time they start to get a little hair around the vagina.”

It was sort of interesting to see what happened to girls, but I was much more interested in finding out what happened to boys.

“It’s a bit different for boys. When you reach puberty your penis and testicles start to grow and you start to get hair at the base. Sometimes the hair comes first, and sometimes the hair comes much later, but in these pictures you can see both happening at about the same time: all these boys have penises that are getting bigger, and you can see where their hair is just starting, too.”

These photos were really exciting: the boys were my age, or perhaps a year or so older, and they looked really interesting, especially the hair. I can’t really say why, but I thought it looked good.

“How long is it likely to be before we grow some hair?” I asked.

“It varies. Any time between now and about fifteen – but, like I said, it usually starts by about thirteen. Don’t worry if it hasn’t started for you by then, though – I know a couple of boys older than that who haven’t started puberty yet. Everyone gets there in the end. And once it’s started it carries on until you look like the boy on the end of this photo – he’s more or less full grown. Actually this photo is a good way to see the various ways it can happen: you’ve got one boy who hasn’t started yet, one who’s big but who has hardly any hair, one whose hair is well on the way but who still has a small penis, and one who is fully developed. And I guess they’re all about the same age – so whatever happens to you, don’t worry: it’s normal.

“Later you get hair under your arms, and some people get hair on their chests, and eventually you have to shave unless you want to grow a beard. That comes quite a bit later, though, usually when you’re in your late teens. Okay, any questions?”

“Yes,” I said. “How far have you got?”

“Far enough.”

“Will you show us? Please? I mean, you’ve seen ours, haven’t you?”


Kevin

I really wasn’t sure about this. Showing them the pictures hadn’t been particularly embarrassing, but there were three of them here, and I thought that getting undressed might not be so easy. Still, I knew that I was supposed to do whatever Lee told me, and even if this request didn’t actually come from Lee I knew he’d support it if I forced the issue. So I stood up and started to get undressed, and it was impossible to miss the excitement on their faces and, from the way they were sitting, not just their faces, either... Fortunately I was sufficiently unsure about this that I wasn’t displaying any similar excitement when I took my boxers off.

“Gosh, look at that hair!” exclaimed Lee.

“It looks good, doesn’t it?” agreed Freddie. “What does it feel like?”

I let him touch it.

“Wow, it’s really soft… I like it. I hope I get some soon. And your balls are nice and big, too, even if your thing isn’t all that long…”

“Hey, it’s longer than yours!” I replied.

“Of course it is. You’re older than us. But I think at least two of the boys in your last photo are bigger than this. Still, it’s not bad, I suppose, and I bet it grows a bit when it gets hard. I think we should find out!”

Once Freddie had been working on it for a few seconds it started to react, and within half a minute it was as hard as it gets.

“That’s a bit better,” said Freddie. What is it, about five inches?”

“Almost,” I said, honestly.

“And does it feel nice when I hold it?”

“Well, yes, but it’s a bit embarrassing, too. After all, I don’t know any of you very well, and I’ve never even met Henry until this morning.”

“I suppose not. Still, after we’ve had a few more lessons with you, maybe you won’t mind any more. What are you going to teach us next time?”

“I don’t know… I suppose we should do a bit more about where babies come from and how to have sex.”

“Really? That’ll be amazing!”

“Well, that’s enough for today, anyway,” I said, pushing him gently away and getting dressed once more. “I’m not sure where we can meet next week, or exactly when, but I’ll sort it out with Lee on Friday night.”

“Wait a moment,” said Henry. “Before you go… can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“No, in private.”

“Okay. If Lee and Freddie go downstairs…”

“No, I don’t trust them not to sneak back up and listen outside. Can we go for a walk in the garden?”

“If you like. Maybe that’ll give Lee and Freddie a chance to do some of the homework I set them.”

“Yes, all right!” agreed Freddie, enthusiastically.

So Henry led me down the stairs, out of the back door and on to the far end of the garden.

“So what’s the problem?” I asked.

“It’s not really a problem, but… you see, what it is…”

“Look, Henry, like I said in there – it doesn’t matter if you haven’t reached puberty yet, or if you’re not very big. You’ll catch up.”

“No, you don’t understand. All right, yes, maybe that is something to do with it, but… you see, although I’m about the average height for my age, I’m… well, Freddie calls me ‘weedy’, and he’s right. Most people who meet me think I’m younger than I am. I’m actually thirteen and a half, but I know I don’t look it, and if you saw me with no clothes on you’d really think I don’t look it, because it is very small for my age. But I’m not worried about that at all – as you said, I’m sure that eventually everything will happen that’s supposed to.

“I’m at boarding school, as you know, and I share a dormitory with three other boys, and all three of them are… let’s just say that they’re a lot bigger than me in that area. And so they tease me, a lot. You could easily call it bullying, except – and this is the problem – I actually rather enjoy it. I don’t know why, but I like being stripped and laughed at, and I like all the other things they do to me, too, even though it’s really rather embarrassing and humiliating. And it’s starting to worry me, because I really don’t think that can be normal. Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“I don’t really know,” I said. “I suppose it depends what exactly they do. I can understand about people making you do things which you actually end up enjoying, though: that’s happened to me a couple of times…”

I was thinking mainly about Mark here: when he’d first made me suck him I hadn’t been keen at all, but that had worked out nicely – so much so that now I also didn’t mind doing it for Dwayne, and if any of the other boys I was working for ordered me to do it I’d be quite happy to comply. But if it had involved actually getting hurt I thought I’d be a lot less enthusiastic.

“So what exactly do they do to you?” I asked.

“Well… they make me undress whenever I’m in the dorm, and they treat me as if I was about nine years old - for instance, they make me go to bed much earlier than we actually have to. I don’t really mind that too much. And sometimes they play with my thingy to make it stick up and then torture it by flicking a ruler against the tip. That hurts a bit, but I suppose they don’t do it too hard. But…”

He looked around and lowered his voice, even though there was obviously nobody anywhere near us.

“Quite often they…”

“What?” I asked.

“Well, they… they fuck me, all right? Sometimes just one of them, sometimes all three, one after the other. And I’m sure I’m not supposed to enjoy that, am I? But I do: it makes me feel good, and sometimes I get this strange feeling while they’re doing it, and that’s really nice. So I can’t be normal, can I?”

“Does it hurt?” I asked, curiously.

“No… well, not now. The first time it did a bit, but they were quite careful – I think they were scared that if it really hurt me I might sneak on them. I wouldn’t, of course: I’m not a sneak – but they didn’t know that, so they were careful the first couple of times and made sure I wasn’t too uncomfortable. They use some sort of cream to let it go in more easily, and now it really doesn’t hurt. As I said, I like it.”

“I don’t think it necessarily means that there’s something wrong with you,” I said. “I’ve got a friend who’s bought a sort of plastic willy to find out what it’s like, and I think he’s intending to get someone to do it to him sooner or later. And obviously he’s expecting to like it, too, so there’s nothing wrong with you for liking it when they do it to you.”

“No, but I like it when they laugh at me and call me names, and I even like it when they spank me, even when it hurts a bit.”

“Well, I suppose that does sound a bit strange, but if you enjoy it, what’s the problem?”

“Well, first, because I don’t think I should enjoy it. It sounds weird when I actually talk about it – after all, what sort of weirdo likes being bullied? And second, because I don’t know what’s going to happen next year. We’ve got the Common Entrance next term, and that’ll decide which school I go to. And I’m a bit afraid that if people can tell I’m strange just by looking at me I might get bullied – seriously bullied, such as being beaten up – at my new school. You see, unless I do really well and get a scholarship I probably won’t be able to go to the same school as the three boys I’m with now. My father might be a lord, but we really haven’t got enough money, and he’s already warned me he won’t really be able to afford full fees for me in September. I might even end up at a state school, and I’m absolutely sure I’d be beaten up there if people found out about how weird I am.”

“Don’t worry,” I told him, “you look perfectly normal. You might not have quite as much sex as you’re getting at the moment, but nobody is likely to beat you up just because of what you look like. On the other hand, if you do end up at a state school you might have to try to lose the posh accent.”

“I do not have a posh accent… do I?”

“Just a bit. So have Lee and Freddie, come to that, so you probably don’t notice. Yer’ll ‘ave ter try ter talk like wot I do. Of course, if all goes well you’ll get your scholarship and be able to stay with the boys who are bullying you now…”


That afternoon Father took us to the cinema and then out for a pizza afterwards. We get through a few pizzas at home, of course, but it was nice to actually eat in the restaurant for once. On the Sunday morning he came and watched the game (we beat Duskett Rams three-nil), and on Sunday afternoon we had a family afternoon at home, which meant that I was spared a visit to Dwayne, but also that I didn’t get to go and visit Mark, either.

It turned out that Father was really impressed: not only had we not burned the house down, but we were getting on with school perfectly normally, getting our homework done and generally behaving in a very responsible way. He was also impressed with my decision to help out at Chris’s football club.

“I didn’t really have any doubts about leaving you on your own,” he told us, “and now I can see I was right. Kevin, I’m really impressed with the way you’ve kept everything going here.”

“That’s as much down to Chris as me,” I said honestly. “We share the work and he’s worked at least as hard as I have. And we haven’t argued once, either.”

Of course this was because I couldn’t afford to start an argument if I didn’t want some extremely embarrassing material to find its way onto the Internet, but I didn’t say that.

“Mrs Jordan tells me you’ve kept the house clean and tidy, too,” Father went on. “I’m really pleased with you, and so next Saturday I think we should have a special day to celebrate. How do you fancy a day at Thorpe Park?”

We looked at each other. Because Father is away so often we don’t often get a chance to go anywhere as a family, and we hadn’t been to an amusement park in absolutely ages.

“Yes, please!” we said in unison.

“Good. And you can each bring a friend too, so who do you want to bring with you?”

“Oh,” said Chris. “Well… either Colin or Mark, but I’m not sure which. It’s a bit hard to decide. Can I let you know later?”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m happy if you bring both, and we’ll count the second one as my friend. I like both of them, and they both know me, so if we do it like that we won’t have to disappoint either of them.”

“That’s nice of you, Kevin,” said my father, “but I really meant for you to bring someone from your year. It’s not really fair if Chris gets to choose two people.”

“I really don’t mind,” I assured him.

“Well, in that case we’ll go by taxi, and then we’ll be able to take both of you and three friends. So Colin and Mark can both come, and you can pick someone as well. So who’s it going to be?”

That was a good question, because I wasn’t exactly overflowing with friends. I liked Colin and Mark, even though they were really Chris’s friends, but about the only boy in my form I could consider a friend was Jason, and I thought it would be a little unfair to take one Microbe without the other. And in any case Jason would probably be too small to go on most of the rides… I’d have invited Danny Engel, but that would have meant admitting to Chris that we were friends – and then I remembered that Danny wasn’t available on Saturdays anyway, because of synagogue and stuff.

There really wasn’t anyone else in my form that I considered a proper friend, and I was just about to tell Father that I wouldn’t invite anyone when I had a thought.

“I think I know someone,” I said, “but I need to check to find out if they’re free. I’ll just go and ask…”


Jeremy

Of course I thought he was winding me up at first – after all, I’d only met him once, in less than ideal circumstances, and in the course of that meeting he’d watched me being beaten by a boy two years younger than me and then watched me crying like a baby. I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if I’d never seen him again. Okay, he had contacted me on Skype the following evening, but he’d had someone else with him, the kid who played on the next board to him in his chess team, and so although he’d seemed friendly enough and we’d played chess quite nicely, part of me at least thought he just wanted to show his friend, and later his brother, the snivelling little baby he’d been with the previous evening.

And yet here he was now asking me if I wanted to go to Thorpe Park with him the following weekend. It didn’t make any sense.

“Why me?” I asked. “You must have plenty of friends you could take.”

“No, not really. First, I’m a geek, and second, nobody who looks at me ever sees anything except the glasses. Pretty much anyone who hangs about with me gets accused of being a guide dog.”

“Take them off,” I said, and after a moment he shrugged and removed them. And, as I’d already realised when he’d taken them off just after we finished our match at school, without his glasses on he looked really good.

“You look really nice without your glasses,” I told him. “Maybe when you’re a bit older you can have laser surgery or something, and then you won’t have to wear them any more. And I reckon you’ll get loads of friends, too, because you don’t look geeky at all – you look sort of fit.”

I realised what I’d said and went red – you’re not supposed to tell other boys you think they’re good-looking. Suppose he thought I was coming on to him? He’d cut the connection and I’d never see him again. Fortunately he couldn’t see my face without his glasses on, because it would have been a dead giveaway, I’m sure.

“You’re having a laugh, right?” he said. “I mean, someone else said the same thing, but you have to be taking the piss. It doesn’t matter anyway, because I can’t do anything without my glasses on, and I’m pretty sure they don’t do laser surgery on kids. Anyway, what about Saturday – you want to come or not?”

“If you’re sure, then I definitely want to come. I’ve never been to Thorpe Park. I’d better go and see if I’m allowed, though – be right back.”

I went and asked my parents, and they were only too happy to think I’d made a friend, and so they said yes straight away.

“Good,” said Kevin, when I told him this. “It’ll help if you can get a train… oh, hang on, I don’t suppose you have any money for the fare, have you? Well, okay, I’ll sort out the ticket for you online and mail it to you. And you won’t have to worry about tickets for the rides because it’s one of those places where you pay at the gate and then get to go on everything without paying any more money. I’ll find out from my father what time he wants to leave and fix you up with a ticket that will get you to our local station in time for us to pick you up. You might have to get up a bit early, but hopefully you won’t mind that too much.”

“No, definitely not,” I assured him. “Thanks, Kevin – I really mean it. I can’t remember the last time I did something like this.”

He put his glasses back on to say goodnight, which was a pity, but perhaps I’d be able to persuade him not to wear them all the time the following Saturday – after all, they might fly off if you’re on a ride…

I suppose I still looked happy the following morning, because when I got to Kenton’s house in the way to the station he looked at me suspiciously.

“You’re in a good mood this morning,” he said. “Has someone sent you some money or something?”

“No,” I said. “I swear that’s not it. No, I just had a nice Sunday, that’s all. Don’t worry, I’m sure you can make me miserable again before we get to school.”

He stopped and stared at me.

“All right, what happened?” he asked.

“Nothing… well, one of my uncles is taking me out all day next Saturday, so you won’t be able to beat me up in front of that kid with the glasses after all.”

“No? Maybe I’ll ask him to come on Sunday instead. Or perhaps I’ll just save it up for the week after and add interest.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to beat me before the weekend – you always do. But now that I don’t actually owe you any money, can you not do it at school, please?”

“Why not? I thought it was only fair to let my mates join in, and I’m sure they’ll want to do it again.”

“Yes, but… well, if you do it in school time you might get caught.”

“Not if we’re careful. And if we do I’ll just blame you.”

“All right, then I’ll make you a deal: keep it just between you and me and I’ll go with you to the woods any evening this week.”

“Now you’re talking! Okay, you’re on. I’ll check the weather forecast and find out when it’s most likely to rain, and then we’ll go that night. You might even get a cold and have to stay in bed next Saturday.”

I really hoped that wouldn’t happen: I was determined that nothing was going to spoil the promised day out with Kevin…

**********************************


We know now that Kevin isn't exactly awash with friends, if he's reduced to asking someone he's only met once to come to Thorpe Park with him. On the other hand, Jeremy really is quite attractive, so perhaps it isn't such a bad idea.

This week my mail address has mostly been gothmog@nyms.net – and indeed it has been every other week, too. I just wanted to see if you were paying attention.

Copyright 2013: all rights reserved. Please do not reprint, repost or otherwise reproduce this or any part of it anywhere without my written permission.

David Clarke