The Summit

AJ

23 Days Left

Just me standing here at the end of our gravel driveway, hopping up and down to the beat of `Great Balls of Fire.' The sun is barely above the horizon as the bus appears down the road. The song gets louder in my head as I try to drown out the nervousness that I just can't shake. I've only been in eleventh grade for a week before the operation, so definitely not enough time to get used to it or for the other kids to get used to me.

The bus pulls up; I look both ways, then hurry across the road and into the bus. Mr. Howe opens the door and greets me when I get in. I search for a friendly face, but the bus is full of high schoolers who either can't afford a vehicle or aren't allowed to drive anymore. They're a group of nearly grown individuals listen to muted rock and roll from earbuds, grumbling about having to wake up so early and discussing the homework that was supposed to be completed over the weekend.

I find an empty seat and sit down, attempting to squeeze my backpack into the available space. This backpack weighs almost as much as I do, packed with all the homework from the past week and a half. `Eat my Shorts!' `For a Good Time, Call Sissy Morton.' `Krew Davis + May Hobby.' The back of the seat in front of me is full of useless knowledge for me to stare at and occupy my eyes, so I'm looking around the bus. The high schoolers are unhappy enough that I'm going to their school as is. There is no need for me to aggravate them further.

The bus ride is always quiet in the morning because everyone is so tired. I stay in my seat as everyone files off. Even while sitting down, I still get pushed around. I sigh and stand up to hurry off the bus, stopping for a moment to tell Mr. Howe, "Have a good day, Mr. Howe."

Standing on the steps, looking up at the school, the words `Summit View High School' are carved in the archway over the front doors. As I climbed the eleven steps, I read the words carved into the stone steps. `Culmen Est Quod Nos Impellit, Sed Ascenditur Ipsum Quod Refert.' It's Latin and loosely translates to `Our climb to the summit is what drives us, but the climb is what matters.'

"I've reached the summit." I laugh to myself at Chance, who is one of Beau's friends' jokes.

Just about everyone in these hallways is four feet taller than me. Going to high school at my age is way more difficult than being in middle school as a third grader.

Most kids ignore me, almost as if I'm lost or just in the way. The hallways have a flow to them like roads, so as long as I'm walking with the flow of traffic, I usually do okay. My new homeroom teacher is Mrs. Nelson, who is the freshman/sophomore English teacher. I think the principal thought I might be more comfortable with kids a little younger than eleventh and twelfth graders, so while I was in the hospital, he moved me to a new homeroom. I'm not sure if that theory is proving to be true.

I walk inside the class and directly to my chair. I flopped down and put my bag on the tabletop. The room fills up, and I open my bag to retrieve the books I need. Curiosity gets the best of me, so my eyes wonder. The sports players are grouped up and talking about... girls, I think. The goth kid directly behind me is making fun of me. He keeps referring to me as `the baby' and `a retard' to his friend behind him.

I turn back around and begin to adjust my hearing aid, so I can't hear people making fun of me from two rows over. "Stop fucking with AJ!" The voice sounds like Haydon and he's standing up for me. I've only met him a few times, and we've exchanged `Hellos' in passing. I turn in my seat, and the kid behind me looks between Haydon and me, but before he can say anything, Mrs. Nelson walks in.

She introduces the elephant in the room and makes me give a little mortifying wave. I hear a few snickerings, making me sink into my chair to avoid some stares. At the end of class, we get like ten minutes to get ready to leave, but most kids just use it to talk.

"Hey AJ, I'm John," comes a voice behind me.

I turn to see an Asian-American boy with little round glasses. His haircut is one that you would expect from an average teenager. "Hi, nice to meet you," I respond softly.

John drops his class and notes books. Blushing, he says, "I'm sorry, I'm a little nervous about talking to you."

I help him pick up his books and ask, "Why would someone be nervous around me?"

Simultaneously huffing and laughing, he pushes his glasses higher on his nose. "You're AJ Colter. You hold Guinness's record for the fastest Rubik's Cube. I've watched that video on YouTube a million times. You did it in 3.11 seconds. I mean, sure, it's a short video, but if you put it on a loop, then you can watch it over and over and over..." 

He talked so fast I couldn't get a word in, and he kept going until the bell rang. John packs up his mess of paper and notebooks, and I sit still, waiting for the crowd to disperse.

"Stand up, AJ, let's get you to your next class," Haydon says, offering me a hand. I take it, of course; I don't want to be rude. We get out of the hall, and he asks, "What's your next class?"

"Umm, well, Chemistry 122," I say shamefully.

"Wow, that's one of the hardest class in the school."

"Sorry," I whisper.

He stops me in the hall right before the stairs and kneels down to look me in the eyes. "AJ, don't ever be sorry or ashamed for being the smartest one in the room."

"Okay, I'm sorry."

He laughs a little and stands up, saying, "Okay, we'll work on that. Let's get you to Chemistry class."

The rest of the morning goes pretty boring, and after about three hours, I find myself in the cafeteria. I absolutely hate this time of day, with all the eyes questioning the reasons I'm standing here. I sigh and head to the shop to get a soda, a candy bar, and a cupcake with a whip cream top. I walk down row after row of tables full of high schoolers that spread themselves out just enough when they see me coming. Jokes on them; I can't think of anything more uncomfortable than trying to fit in here.

I'm into Lego, Rubik's Cubes, homework, music, and Rodeo stuff, and the other students are into smoking, drinking, and drugs. I might be a little judgmental, to be honest. Heading outside, I look for the little spot I found where no one sits, or fits really. In the corner, there are two trees and a bush between them. I can normally squeeze back there and hide from the hectic chaos that goes on at lunch.

Of course, on this day... the universe decides to include me in the chaos.

"He's not here."

"I told you. Why would he eat outside? It's hot as hell."

"May said he always eats lunch out here," this voice I recognize as one of the kids from my calculus class. His name is... Kye.

"He sticks out like a sore thumb in this school. Where else would he eat lunch?" I don't know this person. His voice almost seems to sing when he talks. Should I give away my hiding place? It's obviously a good one. They can't be more than four feet away from me, and they have no idea I'm here.

"Why do you want him?" I ask in a deeper voice.

"AJ?"

"Why are you back there?" He asks as Kye moves the bush to see me sitting on a small cement ledge in the corner.

I don't know what to say. I don't know these two boys. There's nowhere for me to run. There is nowhere to hide. Why did I say something? I'm supposed to be so smart; I'm such an idiot.

"Hey, we wanted to talk to you," says the other one as he reaches in to grab me, and I flinch back.

"Whoa, we're not going to hurt you," Kye says, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "My name is Kye, and this is Brek. We just want to talk."

"We want to ask for your help, more like it," Brek adds.

"What...what can I do?" I ask softly, wondering what everyone else thinks these two are doing talking to this bush.

"Mr. Carter sent us to find you. We're supposed to bring you to the auditorium," says Brek.

Mr. Carter is the music teacher. "Why would he want to talk to me?" I ask as I stand up and begin to gather my things.

"He asked if anyone knew you, and I mentioned you were in my calculus class," Kye said, helping me out.

"And to tell the truth, I just wanted to meet the kid everyone is talking about," Brek confesses.

On the way to the auditorium, Kye asks, "You don't remember me, do you?"

That's a silly question. I remember everything, but I think I'll keep that to myself. Instead, I tell him, "You're in my calculus class; isn't that what you said?"

"Listen to him," Kye says, shaking his thumb at me. "We ride the same bus. I've been trying to talk to you since day one."

"Why?" I am not sure why an older boy would want to talk with a kid the size of an eight-year-old.

"Oh, come on, you're a twelve-year-old junior high school student with a college-level brain, from what I hear. How could you get more interesting?"

I look down so they can't see me blush, but there's nothing interesting about me. We walk into the auditorium and slowly begin to head to the stage. It looks old. Like something you would see in a magazine. Old wood frames in every opening and all the walls around the stage is covered in dark red cloth.

My eyes quickly begin counting seats and doing the math, but I'm interrupted by a man standing on the stage in between two grand pianos, one white and one black.

"Mr. Colter, it's so nice to meet you," says the man on stage. "I'm Mr. Carter, and I'm the..."

"...music teacher and have been teaching here for three years at the Summit View High School." I interrupt him softly, mostly to myself, but with the echo of the auditorium, he must have heard me and stopped talking. I embarrassedly look at the blank faces of the others in the room and whisper, "...sorry."

"No, it's okay. Thanks for meeting me here. I know who you are also," he says, making me feel a little uncomfortable. He sits on one of the piano benches and continues, "I saw you play during the Christmas concert a year ago with Mr. Simons, who is the music teacher up at Cut Bank, right? Why don't you come up here for me?"

I nod and follow Kye up to the stage. I have a bad feeling that I kind of see where this is going. I've decided not to proceed with piano classes and concentrate more on school work. I'd like to be in college by this time next year. I wasn't going to join band here like I did in Cut Bank.

"Kye, if you would please," he says, motioning to the black piano, and then motions for me to sit at the white one, saying, "...and AJ, if you wouldn't mind sitting here."

"Why do you need me?" I ask, but my question is completely ignored.

I walk over like someone asked me to wack off in front of the class and sit down at the bench. I sit there until the uncomfortableness gets too much, and I look over to where the music teacher is talking to Kye. Kye begins playing a song I'm not familiar with. It sounds like a classical work, but there is an odd style to it that tells me it's not that old. Probably less than forty years old, but I'm guessing. It's fast and upbeat. Mr. Carter is snapping his fingers and bopping to the beat of the song that I can now tell is a Christmas song.

After the song is over, Kye looks over to me and asks, "So can you play it?"

"I suppose, but why? You did great," I add, making him smile. Looking at the teacher, I ask again, "Why do you need me?"

Mr. Carter picks up a folding chair and sits it in front of me and says, "I need a piano player, a good one."

"Kye did a great job; let him play," I say, trying to present him with a solution that doesn't include me.

"I'm a trumpet player. Sure, I can play the piano, but I'd never be able to learn all the songs fast enough," says Kye.

"Look, our piano player just broke his shoulder playing lacrosse. I need someone who can learn the songs fast. Simons used to brag that you can play anything you hear. AJ, we're in a huge bind here; what do you say?"

"How long do I have and how many songs?"

"Two months," Brek says, breaking his silence.

"Five songs for the concert and one for intermission that you'll be playing with me," Kye says, looking a little nervous.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I should ask my mom? Six songs and one of them a duet; I'm not sure I can do that in two months."

"I'll come over every day to practice if I have to. Do you own a piano?" Kye asks, letting his excitement show.

"Of course, we own two. One in the living room and one in my bedroom," I answer him with a hint of bragging. "If my mom says I can, I'll help you out," I reassure them. It does sound like fun, and what a challenge--six songs in two months. The hard part, of course, will be talking Mom into it.

Beau

One thing I learned about school is that it doesn't matter where you are in this country; school sucks, especially PE. I mean, I love PE, but lately the high school coach keeps `visiting' my class. Take today as an example. After running twenty laps, climbing ropes, running lines, and a very limited pussy game of dodgeball, all of us boys are in the locker room. I've taken off my underwear and grabbed my shower bag. There's about twenty of us boys in here, half in the shower and the other half just milling around with towels around their waists or naked, like me.

Before I met the Colters, I wouldn't have been walking around this shower room naked. Hell, I'd be showering in my swim trunks and my t-shirt. The Colters have shown me how to be proud of what I look like. Zeke kind of took me under his wing and taught me the right way to exercise hard to get my body to look like this. I'm very proud of the finished product and like it when people tell me I look great.

"Jesus Christ, Beau, did the puberty truck hit you?" Krew laughs, pointing at my swaying four-inch.

This starts a dick measuring contest that I didn't want to be part of because I knew what would happen if I did, but it happened anyway. The guys were touching me, joking, and if I wanted it to or not, my dick began to swell.

Four inches turned into four and a half, and I persisted in going to the showers until Maddox stroked my cock, at which point its length reached its maximum of five inches. "Damn it! Let it go, you asshole!" I protest.

"Holy shit, do all gay guys have huge cocks?" Maddox teases as I slap his hand off my cock.

"You're just jealous, Maddox," wisecracks Krew.

"With that little cock of yours, you're definitely not gay, dumbass," laughs Easton, winding his towel up.

I head into the shower, a little embarrassed and a little bothered. When I hear the snap and Maddox yimp, I smile, knowing Easton either snapped his ass or his little dick.

There are twenty shower heads spewing hot water, and a waist-high fog sits in the large tiled room. There are only about six boys in here showering. Three of them are not back-looking. I hook my bag up and step into the hot water, letting it wash over me. Relaxation travels down my body, and I can feel my hard-on returning to its three-inch size. I wash my hair and work my way down my chest, my pits, my ass, and my crotch. I don't have a lot of pubic hair, but enough to show that I'm a man now. I turn around and watch the naked boys with all the different-sized dicks and body shapes, and I wonder what AJ would look like if he grew like he's supposed to. I close my eyes and lift my head to the shower head, daydreaming about what AJ would look like, and I didn't realize my cock was growing to full erection, again.

Cooper's voice brings me out of my daydream, saying, "Are you thinking of fucking that tiny boyfriend of yours? Does that monster cock even fit in with him?" The guys laugh, and I grab my shower bag to leave. When he makes a huge mistake, he continues talking, "I bet he squeals like a little boy as you fuck him raw... SQUEAL! SQUEAL! SQU..."

Breaking point... Mine used to break really easily, but mom and dad have helped me work at just walking away from people that piss me off. But sometimes, walking away won't stop it from happening again. At times, it becomes necessary to make a statement.

I spun on him and punched him out of his towel. He lay at my feet, holding his eye, and I reminded him, "I warned you, Cooper, don't make fun of AJ in front of me."

The rest of the boys in the shower room grew silent, and we could only hear the rhythmic echoes of the shower water patting on the tiled floor. Then I became aware of how hard I was breathing and the looks on my friends' faces.

"Ouch, Beau, nice right hook," laughs Cooper. He sits up, holding his right eye, and says, "I was out of line. I'm sorry, Beau."

"It's just that AJ is very special to me," I say, and I extend a hand to help him up. He stands, and a couple guys pat me on the shoulder, splashing water on my face. I nod, turn to get a towel from the towel room, and go to get dressed.

Coming out of the closet as gay in Cut Bank wasn't a big deal because all the Colters were gay and had been openly gay, so everyone was used to it. When I lived here in GV, I was straight. Like, straighter than straight, and I should expect some jokes now that I'm out as gay from my old friends, but AJ doesn't deserve that, and I won't stand for it.

"Knight!" A booming voice sends my heart into overdrive. I've been trying to avoid this scenario since I moved back.

"It's Colter now, Coach," I drearily answer him as I dry my hair as quick as I can so I can get dressed. Being naked in front of him makes me feel very uncomfortable. I don't want him to get the wrong idea about me. "My last name isn't Knight anymore; it's Colter," I uneasily remind him again.

"Whatever! Do you know anything about Newman's forming black eye?"

I look past him and see Cooper standing in the doorway of the shower, still holding his eye. I suddenly feel bad that I punched him and let Mom and Dad down by acting out in anger and will probably get detention for it.

"I told you, I fell, Coach. It's slippery in here," Cooper says loud enough to let the whole locker room know.

I nod slightly to Cooper, then look back at Coach to catch him looking at my junk. His stare lasts a little too long to not be uncomfortable, and suddenly I'm eight years old in his eyes. I move my soaked towel over my dick and say, "Coach?" Bringing him out of his drooling trance. When none of the other boys can hear us, I whisper to him with as much courage as I can fake, "I don't do that type of work anymore, Coach."

He scowls. Understanding my message, he's making it very clear that he doesn't accept it. Coach's eyes flick past me when something else grabs his attention, and he heads over to the next naked piece of boy meat to stare at creepily and pretend to be interested in talking to him. I wasn't in middle school back when he was a customer of mine. I'd walk over to to high school after elementary school was let out, and he'd let me in the exit door of the locker room. I'd leave Colt in his office to watch TV, and Coach would take me to the equipment room and use jump ropes to tie me up, or sometimes he'd just spank me, telling me how much of a bad boy I was that day in his class. Then he'd fuck me relentlessly until I passed out or until he just couldn't thrust anymore. Sometimes he'd fuck me so bad, he'd have to drop me and Colt off in front of our house because I could barely walk, leaving Colt to help me walk inside.

Shaking that memory out of my head, I slide into my boxer briefs, and my cock glides into its pouch, which serves to secure it in position. I stretch, pull my shorts out of the locker, and put them on before hearing, "Beau, Beau Colter?" The voice was new to me, and I just figured it was a boy I didn't know that was going to bug me about punching Cooper. "Damn, man, can't I just get dressed in peace? What do you want?" I asked with a little more attitude than I intended. The guy is tall, blonde, and very handsome. He's definitely not a seventh grader and is probably a senior in high school.

He scowls at me at first, but his eyes soften when he continues, "I'm Gavin Bosse. I'm looking for boys that will grow into strong, respectful, and dependable men. I've been watching you in gym class this past week, and I like what I see."

"Um, thanks, I guess," I say, feeling a little odd. He hands me a flyer reading Junior Varsity Lacrosse team tryouts are Thursday and the first practice is Saturday. "Wow, do you think I have a chance?" I ask, a little taken aback.

"I wouldn't have put in so much effort to get you to tryouts if I hadn't," he says with a smile, then shakes my hand.

Gavin leaves, and all my naked friends quickly surround me, all excited. "Do you know who that was?" Easton asks.

"He said his name was Gavin Bosse," I say, clueless about what's going on.

"Dude!" Krew says he is taking me by the shoulders. "That was Gavin `The Boss' Bosse. He's been the captain of the varsity lacrosse team for, like, four years. He leads the school with the most goals of all time! He's played every position, and this year he's coaching the JV team."

My friends regaled me with old lacrosse stories that happened during the two years I was gone. He seems like the perfect lacrosse player. He is very handsome; even my straight friends think so. I sit down on the bench at dick level as the stories continue. My mouth waters as I tie my shoes, and I enjoy watching my friends erect danglers as they laugh and relive magical lacrosse memories.

The last hour of my day is history class, not that I was paying attention. I spent the whole time drawing lacrosse equipment in the notebook with AJ's name written all over it. Whenever I get a chance, I read the flyer, even though I have it practically memorized. Lacrosse--not just lacrosse, but the JV team. I've never even been to a lacrosse match.

The bell rings, ending school and bringing me out of my daydream. I grab my book bag and head to my locker. I'm in such a hurry that I don't even remember switching books in my bag. I just know I have to get to the bus to tell AJ my news.

I hurry outside with all of the other kids, looking for our assigned buses. It doesn't take me long to find yellow bus number 37. Getting on, I take off my backpack and look for AJ, and I see him near the back. I high-five some friends that ride the bus home, like Jeff, Kim, Amy, and Haydon, on the way back to AJ's seat.

I give Haydon a bro-hug, and he tells me, "He's getting a lot of teasing behind his back, Beau. I'm doing what I can."

"Thanks Haydon,"

Getting to AJ's seat, he scoots over, so I can slide into the space he makes for me. "Hey, AJ, you're never going to believe me when I tell you what happened at the end of gym class," I excitedly tell him. He appears somewhat down, but brightens when he sees my excitement. "What's wrong?" I ask him with concern and give him a hug

"It's nothing; what's your news?"

"The captain of the lacrosse team wants me to try out for the JV team!"

"Really!" he practically shouts with excitement. "That's awesome! The Boss wants you to play lacrosse. I can't wait to go to your games!"

I laugh and tell him, "Well, I haven't made the team yet; don't jinx it."