Date: Thu, 10 Jun 2004 17:56:34 +0100 From: Drew Hunt Subject: The House On The Hill 17 This work is copyright. I have given permission for a copy of this story to be placed on the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement. But This work may not be copied or archived onto any other website or newsgroup without the prior written permission of the author. This story is fiction, it didn't happen, to the best of the author's knowledge no one in the story exists in real life. If you have a problem with reading stories of a homosexual nature, then bugger off. Also you shouldn't read on if you are below the age of consent, or you have the misfortune to reside in an area where reading and downloading this kind of material is against the law. Thanks go to Tom W and Lars for their help. Chapter 17 "Okay, Ben, love. I'll see you at half term, then," Maureen said, kissing Ben's cheek before getting onto the train on Saturday morning. "Yeah, mum. Thanks, well, thanks for, you know," Ben said, referring to Maureen agreeing to sign the guardianship papers, which allowed Robbie to have a say in how he was to be brought up. "It was a pleasure, son," Maureen said, smiling. Robbie, Carl and Ben waved as the train pulled away from the platform. "Well, we better get back to the house, our guests will be arriving soon," Robbie said, turning towards the exit. Because of previous weekend commitments, they hadn't been able to host their usual Saturday afternoon get-togethers with Ralph and Ian, and now Chris, Scott and Danny for a couple of weeks. In fact, the two groups hadn't yet met one another. The weather had turned a little cold, so Robbie's plans to host another barbecue had had to be shelved. Sarah had decided to serve up a large buffet instead. Knowing that there'd be a fair number of people coming, she'd suggested hosting the meal in the large dining room. "Sarah, everyone will be in swimwear," Robbie said. "We'd look silly eating in there in our trunks." Sarah had to agree, the meal would be served at the poolside instead. * * * * * "Now you be on your best behaviour," Ralph warned Ian, his young lover as the pair drove up the hill to the house. "Aren't I always?" Ian said, reaching over and giving Ralph's crotch a squeeze. "Ian, stop it. Remember, there'll be Ben there, and Mr Foster said that we couldn't be too, I mean, we couldn't mess about." "Okay, Uncle Ralph, I promise to behave, but you're gonna have to be 'specially nice to me later on," Ian said, waggling his eyebrows. The last time Ralph had been 'especially nice' it had involved him being tied to the bed, whilst Ian licked every inch of his body. Ralph's dick twitched at the memory; he groaned. "You'll be the death of me." "Yeah, but what a way to go," Ian laughed. The two got out of their van; Ian gave Ralph a healthy smack to the arse. "Just remember, you've gotta do everything I tell yer tonight." "And when was the last night I didn't do that?" Ian smiled lovingly at his 41-year-old partner. "I know, Uncle Ralph. I'm really lucky to have you." As they waited for the door to be answered, Ralph put a hand on Ian's shoulder. 'I'm the lucky one,' he said to himself. He still couldn't believe that Ian wanted to stick around a pretty average looking guy twice his age. "Hey guys, come on in," Carl greeted the pair. "We've got three more people coming today, too. But I'll let them explain all about themselves when they arrive." Ian was a little mystified at Carl's words, but didn't comment. "So the pool business is doing okay?" Carl asked as he lead the duo down the hall to the pool. "Oh, not too bad. Just enough work to not have to turn any away," Ralph said. They'd managed to get a couple more contracts from private pool owners; the pools had needed significant overhauls, which had worked out to be quite lucrative for them. As they'd done the previous time they'd visited, both Ralph and Ian used the same changing room. Robbie and Ben came downstairs just then; they'd changed into their swimwear upstairs. "Afternoon, guys," Robbie called out. "Hello Mr Fost-, erm, Robbie," Ralph said. "Don't know if Carl's told you, but we're expecting three more people to join us today." "Yeah, he said something about it," Ian said. * * * * * "I'm sure it'll be fine," Chris Blake reassured his brother Scott as they got out of Chris's Saab. "Rob said that these new guys were pretty cool." "Yeah, sorry, Lion." "It's okay, bro, you wouldn't be you if you weren't concerned about us being okay," Danny said, putting an arm on Scott's shoulder. Carl invited them in; they walked down the hallway into the pool room. Chris changed first, then Danny and finally Scott. "Hi, I'm Chris," he said, shaking first Ralph's hand, and then a gob smacked Ian's. Ian hoped his erection at seeing a Speedo-clad blond haired well muscled stud wasn't showing through his swim shorts. "This is my brother Danny, and my youngest brother Scott," Chris completed the introductions. "Pleased to meet yer," Ian said, recovering a little. Danny and Scott had put their heads together and bought themselves and Chris new trunks. They were rather brief, Chris had raised an eyebrow earlier that day when his two cubs had presented him with the swimwear; they were black with gold stripes down the sides. Though Chris had to admit that he did look rather good in them. Standing in the shallow end, Chris fixed both Ralph and Ian with a long look. Ian had to drop his eyes. "I don't know if either Rob or Carl have mentioned it, but my brothers and I are together. We're lovers." Ian's jaw dropped, Ralph's eyes merely widened a little. "You mean," Ian said, his voice about an octave above it's usual range, "all three of you?" "Yes," Chris said, giving the impression of being outwardly calm, but inside he was a little uneasy. This was the first time that he'd come out so publicly. He'd thought about not saying anything at all about his and his brothers' relationship, but something was bound to slip out, so Chris decided it was best to clear the air from the outset. "As you can imagine, it's not something that we advertise, so I'd appreciate it if you would keep the knowledge to yourselves." Ian nodded; Chris, in his opinion, was a fucking stud, and he'd do anything that he told him to. "No problem," Ralph said. "Me and the young un are together, too. We're a bit unusual given our ages, but it works out for us, dun it, love?" Ralph said, wrapping an arm around Ian's waist. Ian was gob smacked for the second time. Ralph had always been very reticent about declaring his love for him in public in the past. Ian looked up at Ralph and treated him to a warm smile. "Thanks, Uncle Ralph." "You're uncle and nephew?" Danny asked. "No, not really. He calls me uncle because I'm a friend of his dad's, but we're not related." Ben was pleased that all had gone off okay. He'd thought it would; the Blake brothers were really cool, and Ralph and Ian were pretty good, too. Ian was always acting a little silly; Ben knew that he did it just to amuse him. Ben liked Ian. The eight guys had a great time dunking, splashing and generally larking about. * * * * * Carl was preparing to leave for his parents' house for Sunday dinner. Due to other commitments, he'd not been for a couple of weeks. His mother had rung the day before, inviting him round. "How's dad?" Carl asked. The last time Carl and his father had spoken, Carl had revealed that he and Robbie were lovers. The news had hit Stan Powers rather hard. "He doesn't say much, but I asked him if he wanted you to come over, and he said that it'd be okay." "Right, should I bring Ben, too?" "Yes, of course, why shouldn't you?" "It's just that he's sensitive, and gets upset if people start arguing in front of him." "I'm sure your dad will behave." "Okay, mum. Look, would you tell dad that I love him very much, but if he starts up with Ben being there, I'll just leave, and it might be some time before I'd come back again." "Oh, Carl, no." "Mum, Ben's my son and I won't have him upset." "Okay, Carl. I'll tell your dad what you said." "Thanks, mum. We'll be round at one o'clock as normal, then." * * * * * Carl put on his best pair of shoes and stood in front of the mirror in his and Robbie's room. "Well, I don't suppose I can put it off any longer," he sighed. "It'll be okay, sweetheart. I know your dad's approval is important to you. Just bear in mind that you still have your dad, and deep down, he still loves you." Robbie was thinking that Carl was lucky to still have a father. "Thanks, Rob. You always know what to say to make me feel better." "That's because I know how your mind works. You always want everyone to like you, and by and large they do. But if anyone goes against you or yours, then you'll go into your protect-those-you-love mode. But this is a bit different, because you could be arguing against someone you love, so you feel that you've got conflicting loyalties." "How come you're so smart?" Robbie walked behind Carl and put his arms around him. "Because for the past nineteen years, I've worshiped and adored you, and I've made it my business to know all about the wonderful man that you are." "God, Rob, I don't deserve you." "There is this one flaw in the otherwise perfect man that I love. He sometimes comes out with a load of crap. We're together because we were lucky enough to find one another again." "I still reckon I'm the lucky one." Robbie fervently believed that it was actually him who was the lucky one. "Car, we're both lucky. Now, enough of this sentimental rubbish." Robbie gave Carl a slap to his bottom. "You go out now and show your dad what a truly awesomely wonderful, kind and loving man he has for a son." Carl turned away from the mirror, gave Robbie a tender kiss, and left the room. * * * * * "Hi, mum," Carl said, coming through the back door of his parents' house. After kissing his mother on the cheek he asked if his dad was in the front room. "Yes, he always likes his telly on a Sunday." On the drive over, Carl had asked Ben to stay in the kitchen whilst he made first contact with his dad. Carl walked into the front room; his father was sitting in his armchair as usual, the TV was on at a loud volume, as usual, nothing ever seemed to change in that room. "Dad, you okay?" Stan moved his eyes from the screen and grunted. "I went to see Maureen in Hereford last weekend." "Oh, right," Stan said disinterestedly. 'This is going to be a hard battle,' Carl thought. "Yeah, she and Bill have found a really nice house out in the country. Loads of decent walks round about." "I see," Stan said, he then returned to his TV. Carl went to sit on the sofa until lunch was ready. It wasn't going well, but at least they weren't shouting at one another. * * * * * "So, Ben, love," Nora Powers tried to keep the conversation going at the dinner table. "What was your first week at school like?" Ben recounted some of the things he'd been up to. ". . . And I've made a good friend, too." "Oh, that's nice, love," Nora said. "Yeah, he's called Josh, he's in my class and we've got a few subjects together. He helps me when we have games. I'm not very good because of my back, but Josh sticks up for me if the other kids start teasing me." "You didn't tell me that you'd got teased," Carl said, getting worried. "Oh, dad, it's okay. Josh sorted 'em out. It's all cool now." "Well, if they start at you again, then you just let me or Rob know, and we'll go down the school." At the mention of Rob's name, Stan stiffened, but didn't say anything. He stared at Carl momentarily before resuming his meal. "Some of the other kids sometimes say nasty things to Josh, because he's black." "He's black?" Stan spoke up. "Well, kinda coloured. His dad's from Jamaica, but his mum's from round here." "I don't think you ought to be friends with those kind of people, Ben," Stan said. "What do you mean 'those kind of people', granddad?" "Darkies. You can't ever trust 'em." Carl was beginning to regret coming round. Not only was his father homophobic, he was racist, too. "Josh is my friend, I think he'll soon be my best friend. I'm not bothered what colour his skin is." "Just be careful, love, that's all I'm saying." "Granddad, you've not met Josh, so you can't say what he's like." "All darkies are the same." "Oh, for Christ's sake!" Carl had heard enough. "Carl, don't use language like that at the table," Nora said, ever the peacemaker. "You're right, sorry, mum. But dad, you shouldn't judge people who you've never even met. Josh is a good kid, and a friend to Ben." The room fell silent, Ben was uncomfortable. He had hoped that there wouldn't be a scene, however he hadn't thought that his friendship with Josh would cause the problem. Ben loved his granddad very much. For as long as he could remember, Stan always seemed to have a bag of toffees near his armchair, and he was always slipping a wrapped toffee to Ben when no one else was looking. But now, Ben was forced to revise his opinions. Ben hoped he wouldn't have to choose between loving his dad or his granddad, because Carl would win out every time. He loved his dad so much, and it hurt him to think that someone else, whom Ben loved, didn't approve of his idol. Ben ate the rest of his food, but he wasn't feeling well. He had to force the last bit of food down. "I'll open a tin of peaches for our afters," Nora said. "Please, grandma, I don't want any more." "But you like tinned peaches." "It's okay, I'm full, thanks." Ben looked over at his father and gave him an 'I want to go home' look. "I'll not have any either, mum, if that's okay." "You sure, son?" "Yeah, honest. I might as well be making a move, I think." "So soon?" Nora said. "I think it's best," Carl said looking over at his father. Nora nodded sadly. Carl stood up, gave his mother a kiss on the cheek, as did Ben. Carl gave his father a rather perfunctory goodbye, and they left. Nora noted that Ben hadn't gone over to Stan to say goodbye to his granddad, something that he had always done in the past. "Stan." Nora stood by her husband's chair. "I only get to see our Carl and Ben once a week. You spoilt it. They felt uncomfortable, that's why they left early. And you promised to behave." "Me? I didn't do anything." "Stanley Powers, you were downright rude. Our Ben doesn't make friends easily, and you go and run down one of them without ever meeting him." "He shouldn't be knocking about with people like that. It'll be all that Robbie Foster's doing, you mark my words. Our Carl and our Ben were alright before he got his hands on them." "That's rubbish. Our Carl loves Robbie very much, and so does our Ben. Our Carl told me that Robbie is now Ben's guardian. Maureen came down the other day and signed some papers at the solicitors." "It's all wrong. Next thing you know they'll be turning our Ben queer like them." Nora slammed her hand on the table. This surprised her as much as it did Stan. "Our Carl loves Ben, he'd never do anything to hurt him, and if you say any different then I'll, then I'll . . . " Nora didn't know what else to say. She'd never raised her voice to Stan in all the years that she'd been married to him, and she'd immediately regretted doing so, but she just knew that she couldn't back down on this issue. Stan got up from the table and made his way into the front room and turned the TV on. He just didn't understand why his son was like he was. Did Carl choose to do all this just to hurt him? * * * * * "Sorry, dad," Ben said as they were travelling back from Carl's parent's house. "I just didn't want to stop there." "I know, son. I didn't either." "Why is granddad so, so, oh, I don't know? Josh is my friend. He really looked after me that once when we had games." "I don't know why your granddad is racist. It's probably how he was brought up by his mum and dad. Ben, I wish you'd have said something about this business during games." "Oh, I didn't want to worry you." "Ben, I'm your dad. If there's something wrong, I want to know. You do know that you can come and tell me or Rob anything at all." "I know that, dad, thanks. It's all okay now. It's just a couple of the kids were poking fun at me because I couldn't do the gymnastics. But Josh told them that because I have arthritis, I couldn't bend my back like they did. He was really good about it. They're his friends, the boys who made the comments, I mean. I thought it was really cool of him to stand up for me like that." "Yes, son, he really sounds like a good friend." "I just wish I'd have said something when those other boys started at Josh for being coloured. But I was too scared." "I'm sure Josh knew that you were on his side." "Yeah, I told him I was. And he hasn't been teased as much since that first day. Mind you, he's a lot bigger than many of the kids, so if he wanted to, he could sort 'em out." "Oh, right. He doesn't go round hitting other kids though, does he? He could get into an awful lot of trouble if he did." "Oh no, Dad. Josh isn't like that. He's really quiet a lot of the time." "You really like him, don't you?" "Yeah. I've got a couple of other friends, but I think Josh will become my best friend." "It's nice to have a best friend," Carl said, thinking of how he and Robbie used to always be together. "I'd like to invite him up to the house one day, but I'm not sure." Carl thought for a minute. "That's the only thing I regret with me being in love with Rob, it makes things awkward for you" "No, dad. Please don't think that. You and Dad Rob are really great parents. I don't want you to worry about that. And I'd hate you two to have to pretend not to be in love if Josh ever came round. I know that you two can't show what you feel about each other in many places." "Oh son." They'd arrived back at the house. "It'd be fine. Your uncle, sorry, Dad Rob, and me would be okay about not revealing who we were. Neither of us would ever deliberately cause you any problems with your friends." "I know you wouldn't, dad." "I'll talk to Rob about it tonight. See what he has to say." "Thanks, dad." * * * * * Robbie was never a fan of Mondays; he didn't know why. His new employment contract allowed him to set his own work schedule, so if he didn't fancy amercing himself in machine code, he knew he didn't have to, but Robbie still felt obligated to do his bit. Things weren't going well, he just couldn't seem to tie up two bits of code together. It should have worked in practice, but for reasons which eluded him, it just wasn't working out. He decided to break for a while, and have a cup of tea. When he entered the hall he heard someone rapping at the front door. "It's okay, Jean, I'll get it," he called out. "Hello, Mr Foster." It was the man from the furniture shop. Robbie battled to remember his name; it was on the tip of his tongue. "It's Simon Featherstone, you remember, from Featherstone's Furniture?" Robbie snapped his fingers. "Sorry, yes, of course. It's been one of those mornings where I think I'd have been better off stopping in bed." "Yes, sir, I know what you mean," Simon said fairly morosely. "Please, come in, come in." Robbie stood aside to allow Simon to gain admittance. "Your furniture is almost ready for you to take delivery." "Oh, so soon?" "Yes, I managed to rush it through for you," Simon said. "I just wanted to confirm a few things about the final trim." "Come into the Drawing room then. Would you like a cup of tea?" The pair walked down the hall. "Please, white, one sugar. It's been one of those days for me, too. I've just come back from the crematorium with mother." Robbie paused, his hand on the door handle to the Drawing room. "Please, bring her in, you can't leave her out in your van." "No, erm, you don't . . . " Robbie cut him off. "Don't be silly, bring her in, I insist." Robbie crossed the hallway and entered the kitchen. "Sarah, don't suppose I could trouble you for a pot of tea?" "No problem, the kettle's just boiled." "Thanks. Simon Featherstone, you know, the furniture man, has just come round." Sarah was stood at the sink washing out the teapot. "Oh, yes, poor man. I'm sure he'd welcome a cup, I've got some biscuits in the tin, too." She moved from the sink, teapot in hand. "He's just nipped out to his van to bring in his mother. I've no idea why he left her out there." Sarah let go of the teapot; it crashed to the tiled floor and broke into innumerable pieces. Robbie stared at the broken remains, and then looked up at Sarah's face, which was a ghostly white. "What's wrong?" Robbie advanced towards her. "She's dead." "Huh, who is?" "Mrs Featherstone. She died early last week." Sarah bent down to pick up the mess. "No, let me." Robbie soon cleared away the broken shards. "Well, if she's dead, why is she in his van, then?" A frightening image of the corpse of the late Mrs Featherstone being transported around the district in the back of Simon's vehicle popped into Robbie's head. "I think I'd better go and investigate," he said, leaving the room. He found Simon walking back down the hall carrying an urn, presumably containing the remains of the late Mrs Featherstone. It was only then that Robbie remembered Simon saying something about him just coming back from the crematorium. Robbie didn't know whether to be relieved that there wasn't a corpse, or if he should show sympathy for Simon's loss. Sympathy won out. "Oh, Simon, I'm sorry. Sarah's just told me what happened. Please forgive me for being so insensitive. I honestly had no idea." "Oh, that's okay," Simon said. "I was going to scatter her on Saddleworth Moor this afternoon. We used to go for a picnic up there during the summer when I was little. We scattered dad up there ten years ago, and mum wanted to be with him." "Yes, of course, Simon, I don't know what to say. What must you think of me?" "Oh, don't concern yourself about it, Mr Foster. I suppose in years to come, I'll be able to look back on it and laugh." "Yes, that might be of some comfort to you." Simon nodded; he still held the urn in his hand, seemingly not knowing what to do with it. Robbie wasn't sure what to suggest, either. He didn't really want the urn in the house, but felt as though he couldn't voice his disquiet. "I'll, erm, I'll take her back to the van, I think," Simon said turning to the door. "Yes, okay." Robbie hoped his relief didn't show in his voice or on his face. Once Simon had returned, minus his mother, the pair retired to the Drawing room over cups of tea; fortunately, Sarah had a spare teapot. Simon got the information he'd come for, regarding the type of buttons Robbie wanted to go on his furniture. The two spent about fifteen minutes discussing this and other matters before Simon said he had to leave. "Of course. Please accept my apologies once again." "Oh, don't worry. I'm sure mother would have found it amusing if she'd been here." Robbie wasn't sure how that circumstance could have arisen, if Mrs Featherstone had been alive, then there wouldn't have been an urn of ashes, but he kept his thoughts to himself as he showed Simon out of the house. "I'll bring up the new furniture about this time next week, if you like?" "Splendid, thank you." Robbie closed the front door and leant against it. He was right; he should have stayed in bed that morning. * * * * * Robbie wasn't the only person in Greenville who wished he'd stayed in bed. Morgan Smith was doing a fair imitation of William Shakespeare's second age of man. 'The whining schoolboy, with his satchel and shining morning face, creeping like snail unwillingly to school.' Morgan had felt uncomfortable after his first day of school, but this was as nothing compared with how he was feeling now. Due to his misfortune of coming to the attention of Lenny Short and his gang of assorted misfits and ruffians, Morgan had become the gang's chief source of entertainment. Despite his coke-bottle bottom glasses, Morgan's eyesight still wasn't 20/20. On Tuesday morning, he had rounded a corner in the corridor and hadn't seen Lenny's leg shoot out. Morgan had gone flying, his books scattering across the floor. His attempts to retrieve his books had been accompanied by jeers and laughs from Lenny and his gang. Morgan managed to get everything together, whilst remaining outwardly calm, but this hadn't been the end of his torture that day. The final period on Tuesday was P.E., a subject in which it would be safe to say that Morgan did not excel. The class had gone on a cross-country run. Morgan, who wasn't in the best physical shape, had come into the changing rooms last and was forced to strip off and shower in front of all the other students who had already taken their showers. A shy boy at the best of times, being forced to perform his ablutions in such a public setting was deeply disturbing for Morgan. "God, call that a dick?" someone shouted out when Morgan's towel accidentally dropped to the floor. Morgan went a deep shade of red, he knew he wasn't well endowed, but to have his lack of size publicly discussed was almost too much for him to cope with. He dried himself quickly and got dressed. Hiding himself in a corner of the changing room, Morgan hoped that he wouldn't attract any more attention to himself. Morgan had perfected, or thought that he'd perfected, the art of becoming invisible. He would hide around the corner whilst the rest of the class queued up outside the classroom. When the teacher came along, Morgan would slip in at the end of the line of pupils, and enter the classroom choosing a seat in the front, hoping that his proximity to the teacher would protect him. Morgan had managed to survive unscathed for most of the week, and had begun to relax. Lunchtime on Thursday saw him in the serving line in the school cafeteria as usual. Once he'd paid for his meal, he tried to find an empty place in a distant corner. Seeing a likely looking space, he began to make his way towards it, but failed to notice Lenny put out his leg. Lenny, a bear of very little brain, thought that as his trick had worked once, he saw no reason to abandon a successful formula. His attempts to trip Morgan had worked, although Lenny hadn't bargained on the contents of Morgan's tray landing all over him. "You bloody clumsy idiot!" Lenny said at the top of his voice. Everyone in the dining room looked round to see Lenny wearing Morgan's lunch. Quite a few of the diners began to laugh or make wisecracks. A fair few of the spectators had been victims of Lenny and his gang in the past; therefore it was all the more amusing for them to see Lenny so publicly humiliated. Not unsurprisingly, the incident had enraged Lenny; Morgan had just been elevated to the top of Lenny's list of victims. Morgan wasn't sure how he'd survived Friday. It was sheer hell from first bell to last. As he entered the school Friday morning, Lenny was waiting for him inside the main doors. "You're gonna be so dead by the end of school, Smith." Morgan ran to the toilets and threw up his breakfast. He'd tried to convince his parents that he was ill and couldn't go to school that day, but he'd cried wolf so many times in the past that they didn't believe him. Waiting until the bell for morning registration was almost due, Morgan slipped out of the toilets and made his way to his form room. Unfortunately his form teacher made all his class sit in the same seats each time, this placed Morgan next to Stuart Markham, who was a member of Lenny's gang, by virtue of the fact that he was the younger brother of Eddie Markham, Lenny's side-kick and chief yes-man. Throughout registration, Stuart kept whispering. "You are so dead, you are so dead." Morgan's first class was Maths, a subject he quite liked. He managed to lose himself in the pleasures of basic calculus, forgetting his troubles for a while. However morning break, which immediately followed his Maths lesson, was a time when Morgan knew that he'd be exposed to the gang. Much of morning break was spent queuing for the tuck shop. As Morgan had lost his breakfast, he was quite hungry. Coming away from the open window of the classroom that served as the tuck shop, Morgan carried his bar of chocolate, packet of potato crisps and can of coke in his hands. He'd barely gone ten steps before the sneering figure of Lenny appeared in front of him. "These will do nicely, Smith," the older boy said, relieving Morgan of his goodies. "But they're mine." "Not any more, they're not." "I'll tell. I've had enough of you bullying me." Morgan turned away to find a member of staff. He found he couldn't take a step because Lenny had hold of him by the back of his jumper. "You say one word, and you're dead," Lenny said in a low menacing voice. "Meet me after the last bell by the library." Lenny let go of Morgan, who ran off. The remainder of the day was spent by Morgan in a downward spiral of worry and misery; he was totally unable to concentrate on his lessons. Lunch was survived by sitting at a table with a couple of teachers. Once the end of school bell rang, Morgan began to shake. He hung around in the Biology lab, trying to put off the moment of his departure. "You no home to go to?" the Biology teacher said, seeing Morgan still sat at his bench. "Erm, no, I mean, yes, miss." "Well, as you don't seem to be in much of a hurry, you can help me carry these exercise books to my car if you like." Morgan smiled, if he was with a teacher as he crossed the playground, he'd be safe. "Yes, miss, no problem." Morgan brightened up for the first time that day. The teacher's unwitting protection prevented Lenny from approaching Morgan. As the last of the exercise books went onto the back seat of the teacher's aging Datsun, Morgan's mother appeared. "There you are," she said. "Come on, you've got that dentist's appointment, we'll have to hurry." Morgan had forgotten that his mother was due to collect him. He gave out a deep sigh, he'd made it through the week. The weekend had fled by with frightening speed, and despite all of Morgan's efforts to persuade his parents that he really was too ill to attend school, he was slinking along the streets that Monday morning, hoping to remain invisible to any member of Lenny's gang. "Got you," Morgan heard a voice say before he was pulled into the bushes. "Thought you could hide from me, did yer?" Morgan saw the ugly face of Lenny close to his own. "What? Dunno what you're on about." "Last Friday, you were told to meet me by the school gates." "Well, um, the teacher made me carry her books, and mum came and . . ." "Stop making excuses." Lenny slapped Morgan's face. The sting of the impact caused Morgan to start crying. "Baby, you're a fucking baby, Smith." "Why'd you hit me? I've done nothing to you." "Stop snivelling! God, I hate cry babies. You didn't do as you were told, so you have to pay." "Pay?" Morgan squeaked out. "Get on your hands and knees, slave." "Uh?" "You deaf as well as stupid?" Lenny had his gang of sidekicks keep watch as he forced Morgan to spit-shine his shoes, which admittedly were in need of a good polishing. "Now you'll clean my shoes, and those of any of my gang whenever I want you to. Got that, slave?" "I'll tell. I'm not cleaning your shoes ever again." Morgan tried to get to his feet, but Lenny pushed him over, he landed in a hawthorn bush. "You'll fucking well do as I tell you, otherwise you'll be sucking hospital food through a straw." The idea of sucking seeped into Lenny's twisted brain. He rubbed his crotch, "I might have something else for you to suck as well." Realising what Lenny was talking about, Morgan squeezed between two of Lenny's goons and ran breathlessly the rest of the way to school. Locking himself in a toilet cubicle, Morgan tried to wash the dirt from the knees of his trousers, crying all the time about how much he hated the school, his parents who never listened to him, as well as his life in general. He'd have to talk to Darren about it all tonight. Darren understood, Darren was his friend, no matter what problem he had, Darren could always help. Morgan had been in a youth chat room on his computer , when he'd received an instant message from someone calling himself Daz693. As there wasn't much activity in the room, Morgan had replied to the message. Over the weeks, Morgan and Darren began to forge a bond together. Morgan felt that he could open up to the stranger and pour out the contents of his heart to him. Something Morgan just wasn't comfortable about doing with his parents, who seemed to be more interested in scoring points from one another as their marriage slowly disintegrated. Hearing the bell for registration ring, Morgan got to his feet and exited the toilets to begin his day. To be continued.