Kurt
Life in The
Village, through the eyes of a student at the remote school.
(This is a parallel story to "Schoolie", but through different eyes.)
This longer chapter aligns, partially, with Chapter 54 of "Schoolie".
This is an
original work of pure fiction (just an expression of a fantasy)
by Robert A. Armstrong (a pseudonym)
The resemblance
of the characters by action, name, location or description to any real person
is purely coincidental.
If it is illegal,
or offensive, for you to read stories involving interactions of a sexual nature
between adults and youths, then what are you doing here?
From
Chapter 32:
Five minutes later
Dad and Mr Grant appear.
As they cross the
verandah, I see Dad touch his nose, like he does when there's a grown-up secret
going on.
Mr Grant nods.
What secret could
those two possibly have?
Is it about me?
Well, it can't be
anything bad, because Mr Grant is smirking! And he doesn't look at me.
Chapter 33 – Andy Disappears
We each take a
dinner plate. At least we have plenty of those, even though they don't all
match, not like at Ma and Pa's where everything matches. With roses. Even the
teacups and saucers. And the egg cups!
I look at the
plates and bowls of food. "Wow," I tell Ms O'Sullivan. "This all looks very
colourful and tasty!"
"If you butter a
couple of slices of bread," she says, "then you can either make yourself a big
sandwich, or just fill up your plate and use a fork to pick up bits of
everything as you want to eat them."
I let everyone
else go first, starting with Mr Grant and Andy. However, Ms O'Sullivan insists
that I choose mine before she does.
She whispers into
my ear, "One of the advantages of going last, is that you can take as much of
what is left as you like!" She smirks at me, and I grin back. I like her.
I end up with
almost as much as William. Unlike him, I won't be coming back for seconds, or
to polish off all of the `left-overs'.
My dinner plate
gets filled with sliced lettuce, cheese, tomato, ham, beetroot and pineapple.
And one of the seven eggs that Ms O'Sullivan boiled and sliced into halves.
Plus the bread.
When I go into my
bedroom, I push the door mostly closed, using my elbow.
William and Karl
are side by side on my brother's bed. Of course.
Andy is sitting on
mine. I sit next to him, then, thinking of what might happen, move away a
little. He looks at me. I lean in and tell him very quietly, "You know why!"
Andy leans back
towards me and whispers, "I think I've worked it out. It only happens if you
touch me first. So, it's OK." And, he wiggles towards me so that our thighs are
touching.
"What did you just
say?" William asks. "Are you suggesting that we eat naked, like at Marty's?" He
puts his plate onto the bed, stands up, checks towards the door, then drops his
pants, and just stands there.
Karl can see his
bare backside. Andy and I are looking at his hairy front.
Despite the fact
that I'm sure my brother is very familiar with William's naked body, Karl looks
shocked, in a way that I've never seen before. It reflects exactly what I am
feeling, and worried, in case one of the adults walks past our doorway, with
the door not fully closed. I don't think that Dad would care. Probably not Mr
Grant, either. But what if it was Ms O'Sullivan? OMG.
I don't even dare
to look at Andy's face!
Then, William
grins, "Only, joking!" He pulls everything back up, re-adjusts himself with a
quick jiggle, then plonks himself back down and resumes eating, starting with
the few bits that had just bounced off his plate onto the bed.
"Holy shit! You
scared me," Karl announces, looking from William to the door. "What if..."
"Ship!" Andy
corrects him.
Without commenting
on the possibility of being sprung by one of the adults, William asks, "So, where
is everyone going to sleep tonight?" He almost-chews another mouthful of food
while Andy, Karl and I all look at each other and shrug. He continues, "Same
arrangement as last night? Or do you three guys all want to sleep in the same
bed?" He fills his mouth again.
I really want Andy
all to myself tonight, but I ask anyway, "Why would you ask whether Karl, Andy
and I all wanted to sleep together?"
"Oh, I don't
know," he says, then smirks, "What happens in the bathroom..."
There is a pause and
I can tell that three heads are replaying the full details of this morning's
shower.
"Did you see us?"
Andy asks, red-faced.
I can't tell
whether he's embarrassed or angry.
"More like you
were watching us!" I say.
"Fucking perv!"
Karl hisses and slaps him on the back of his head.
"Trucking perv!"
Andy corrects him.
My brain goes into
overdrive. OK, so he knows that the three of us had fun in the shower. And
let's assume that he saw everything! But why would he suggest that the three of
us would want to sleep together?
I'd be OK sleeping
with my brother, of course. Or with Andy. But all three of us together? What if
Karl got to like Andy? Or vice versa. I ain't gonna let that happen!
And where would
William sleep? Not in bed with Mr Grant? Oh, no! Maybe he wasn't joking about
`sleeping with Mr Grant' when I thought he just meant in the same room! Or,
maybe, he wants to try it.
Andy interrupts my
thoughts. "I'm happy with how things were last night."
With a mouth full
of food, I nod and hum, agreeing with him.
The expression on
Karl's face is still one of confusion.
I think about all
of the alternatives, except of William being in bed with Mr Grant!
Me in bed with Mr
Grant? Nice, but I really don't want to give Karl or William the chance to muck
around with Andy's body.
Karl in bed with
Mr Grant, and me with Andy and William? Nope. That definitely wouldn't work for
me!
Andy in bed with
Mr Grant, while Karl, William and I... Hey! What am I thinking? Andy and Mr Grant
are the two that I want to be with the most!
An evil thought
crosses my mind. What would Mr Grant think if Andy and I both climbed in with
him while Karl was in bed with William. William already told us that he, Andy
and Mr Grant showered together, naked, at the beach. Hmm. I wonder!
But, that probably
wouldn't happen! Damn!
"Yes. Definitely
the same as last night!" I say. Andy and I bump fists.
"Hey! No problem!"
William says. "Same as last night then!" And, he embarrasses Karl by gently
grabbing my brother's crotch.
Karl looks
surprised. Stunned actually, and I wonder whether he is going to punch William
or grab him back.
No punching. No
grabbing. Karl just slides his hand into William's lap. William parts his legs
to give Karl a better feel of everything. And they begin playing with each
other.
"Don't look so
surprised!" William says to Andy, as if a question had come from his mouth instead
of across his whole face. "If Karl and I can muck around, then it's all right
for you to do the same with Kurt. OK?"
Andy starts, "How
do you know that...?"
William cuts him
off. "Gimme a break, Goldilocks! I didn't come down in the last thunderstorm, you
know. I can tell just by watching the way you two look at each other. And the
cocks in your pants get fat when you're together."
"But..." Andy starts
again, hesitantly, as though he's not sure what to say next.
"It's OK," William
jumps in again. "House rule! You don't tell. We don't tell! All right?"
Andy finally gets
to complete a sentence. Sort-of. "Yeah. OK. Deal!"
William gets off
the bed and holds out his fist to bump. The deal is done all `round.
Then, after
concealing, with shirts out, what we don't want the adults to see, we take our
plates to the sink.
The adults stop
talking, as though we four have interrupted something that they don't want us
to hear.
There are no
scraps on our plates, so I start to run the water to do the washing up.
"Leave those," Ms
O'Sullivan smiles at me. "I'll deal with all of the dishes shortly. Why don't
you all get yourselves out to the homestead and have a good look around. Tom
told us that's what you wanted to do."
"Thanks, Helen,"
Mr Grant says, getting up and adding his plate to ours. "Come on guys."
We head for The
Beast.
Ms O'Sullivan and
Dad are on the verandah. They wave. Dad has one arm over Ms O'Sullivan's
shoulder and her hand is around his waist.
Something is
definitely going on between those two! And we're leaving them alone together!
All afternoon and all night! Again!
Andy and I are
right at the back. William and Karl are in front of us.
As we head towards
the pub, Mr Grant, pointing, says, "Look. There's Marty's SUV. He has just
saved me a trip."
He pulls The Beast
to a halt just around the corner and says, "This should only take me a minute."
Then he gets out, crosses the road and disappears inside the open doors.
He actually takes
about two minutes.
"He's fine," Mr Grant
says, coming back and closing the car door. "And, Marty said to tell you that
you guys are welcome to come for breakfast any time!"
Andy looks at him
and asks, innocently, "Is it true, Tom, that you walk
around naked all of the time at Marty's place?"
Mr Grant says,
"Well..."
William jumps in, "Well, not ALL of the time!"
I think about the
possibility, after Andy goes back home, of me and Karl spending time there with
Mr Grant and William and Marty. Naked. Just not all of the time! But a lot of
the time. And Junior, alerted by my thoughts, wakes up and stretches!
"The only time I can take all of my clothes off at
home is when I'm having a shower," Andy tells us. "I like Marty's rules."
We cross the
bridge then head west.
William and Karl,
in front of us, whisper together and then I see them start to silently remove
their clothes.
That's enough of a
signal for Andy and me to play follow-the-leaders.
By the time Mr
Grant notices, by looking in his rear-view mirror, the four of us are starkers!
I don't know whether he can see William and Karl below their waist, but he
wouldn't be able to see any more of Andy and me than our shoulders behind the
seat in the middle.
He swings around
for a better look at William and my brother. "Hey! The no-clothes house rule
doesn't apply in my car," he jokes.
"Yes, well, maybe
it should extend to all of your property," William says. "Not just inside the
house."
Mr Grant says, "Incorrigible!"
and turns his eyes back to the front.
William laughs. I
have no idea what that word means. I look at Andy. He shrugs. I know that Karl
wouldn't know either! Maybe it's just a private joke between Mr Grant and
William. Or some kind of secret code.
I watch Mr Grant
adjust his rear-view mirror, angled more downwards. I can guess what he can see
now.
I let Andy play
with me more than I play with him. I wouldn't want him to spurt in Mr Grant's
new car!
By the time we get
to the homestead I am sure that The Beast is transporting four very hard
erections. Maybe even five. LOL.
We gather our
things together. William and Karl dash up the steps ahead of us.
We catch up to
them, waiting, at the front door.
Andy uses the
knocker. Three loud bangs. Then, as he touches the door knob, the door swings
open.
"I still don't get
it!" William says, shaking his head.
He and Karl head
for their bedroom. The hurried closing of their door echoes through the house.
I'm sure that if they had a `DO NOT DISTURB' sign, it would already be hanging
on the outside.
Andy leads the way
up the stairs to our side.
I pause to pick up
one of his dropped socks.
As Mr Grant
continues past me, he pats me on the bum and says, "You and Andy can go and
have some fun together too. Just come down to the lounge room when you're
ready. We have some exploring to do, remember?"
I catch him and
swat his behind. "Yes, sir! If you say so!"
Then I stop in
front of him, expose my bare backside to him and he obliges by giving me a firm
swat. I know that he enjoys doing that. I wait, and he does the other cheek!
I giggle and follow
Andy into our room and close the door. I'm confident that we won't be disturbed
by Mr Grant. And, the other two will be too busy!
Andy is already on
the bed. On his back. Smiling at me. Handsome erection lying on his stomach.
I drop my clothes
on top of his by the door, and a few possibilities run through my mind.
I decide against
jumping on top of him from the side and, instead, kneel at the end of the bed
and grab one of his feet, to see how ticklish he is.
Answer: Very!
He squeals and
tries to kick me away using his other leg. After a bit of a struggle, I manage
to grab his wild foot, and I hold both of his ankles down against the bed.
We both slowly
relax, feeling each other do the same.
I part his feet
and run one hand up each of his legs.
By the time they
reach his balls, he has his hands behind his head, grinning.
I press my thumbs
under his balls and lift them, then give his cock a bit of a jiggle before
laying myself on top of him – face to face. I feel his penis do a push-up
underneath me.
He lifts his hips
a couple of times then rolls over, with me on the bottom and him on top.
We press our
sword-fighting implements together then I roll him back the other way.
We go back and
forth and then, with him on top, then he says, "It's gonna happen!"
I stay still. He
pushes his cock against me and I feel it throbbing, then the hot wetness
between us.
He relaxes his
weight onto me, and I wrap my arms around him.
After a few
moments he puts his hands onto the bed, raises his head and shoulders, like
doing a push-up, and looks me in the eye. "Do you want me to jack you off?" he
asks.
I'm tempted! But I
say, "Tonight?"
He rolls off me,
looks at both of us, and comments, "Bit of a mess!"
I think I'm gonna
have to pinch one or two face washers from the bathroom and keep them under our
pillows. Like at home. Especially if we stay out here for the whole week!
"Keep still!" I
tell him. I turn and kneel over him, and scrape as much of his spunk as I can
off me and onto him, and wipe my fingers on him as well. "I'll see what I can
find to clean us up," I say and stand on the floor.
I could use my
underpants. Or his. But I'd prefer not to.
I open the door a
bit and look out.
I catch sight of
Mr Grant stepping off the bottom of the staircase and begin walking in the
direction of the lounge room. He disappears underneath where I'm standing.
I look across at
William and Karl's room. Their door is still shut.
I creep out, then
dash for the bathroom.
I use a warmed
washer to clean myself up, then wet it again, squeeze it out, and, before
heading back to the bedroom, I also grab a dry one. For tonight.
Andy is right
where I left him – on his back, with his stomach and chest spattered with blobs
and streaks and smears.
I hold up the
washer and he puts out his hand. I have thoughts of cleaning him up myself, but
decide to let him do it. I give him the warm, wet one, and I tuck the dry one
under my pillow
"Come on," I say
to him, starting to put my clothes on. "We have some exploring to do!"
Andy cleans
himself up, then, standing up, looks around for where to put the washer. "Give
me that," I tell him. "I'll rinse it in the bathroom while you get dressed."
I wait for him at
the top of the stairs.
He emerges, wraps
his arms around me and says, "Thanks."
I ruffle his blond-topped
hair and give him a swat on the tail.
"What was that
for?" he asks.
"Oh, I dunno," I
tell him. "People seem to like doing that to me. "Maybe it makes them feel
good."
Andy responds by
repeating my actions. "Yep!" he says. "Everything felt good for me."
We both laugh and
head down.
He glances at
William and Karl's room, and before he asks, I tell him, "Nope. I haven't seen
them."
Immediately I
wonder whether wanking is all that my twin brother and our friend are up to.
After all, I've learned a lot more from both Ron and Mr Grant which they could
possibly be doing too. If William was teaching my brother new things, would
Karl tell me? Maybe. Then again, maybe not! I haven't let on to him that I can
do stuff beyond wanking, or he'd ask how I found out. And a promise is a
promise! To Ron and Mr Grant.
"Well, I didn't
expect to see you two so soon," Mr Grant says, smirking, as we enter the lounge
room.
"Why not, Tom?"
Andy replies to him, then grins at me.
"I just thought
that you might like more time to get to know each other better," he says.
"We already know
each other pretty well!" I say. Then, before he or Andy can take my comment
further, I add, "Besides, I thought that we were going to do some exploring. Do
you think that we might even find some pirate treasure?"
"There's treasure
here, all right," Mr Grant tells me. "But not the kind that you might be
thinking of. No chest of gold coins, or anything like that."
"What kind of
treasure, Tom?" Andy asks.
Mr Grant doesn't
answer Andy's question straight away but, instead, asks, "Any sign of William
and Karl?"
I reply, "Not yet.
I think that they're still getting to know each other better."
Mr Grant ruffles
my hair, says, "Cheeky!" then swats me on the tail.
I turn towards
Andy, raise my eyebrows and my upturned hands and my shoulders and I mouth,
"See what I mean!"
Andy nods, smiles
and we bump fists.
"You've already
seen some of the treasure," Mr Grant tells us.
Andy and I look at
each other.
"You mean the buggy that we were riding in when the
bushranger held us up?" I ask.
"That's the one," Mr Grant tells me. "It's the only
one like it in the whole world. That's called `unique'. And it just so happens
to be mine."
"Did the Queen of England give it to you, Tom?" Andy
asks.
"Let's just say I inherited it," he answers.
"Are you related to the Queen of England?" I put to
him. "Wow! Wait `till all of the kids find out!"
"Unfortunately, no," Mr Grant says. "It's a long
story. However, I am related to the brother of the Mayor of The Village!"
"But didn't some people call you the Mayor of the
Village?" I put to him.
"And who is the brother of the Mayor of The Village?" Mr
Grant asks me, sounding very much like a school teacher.
Actually, he is a
school teacher, isn't he? Lol.
"William," I
answer.
"So, I AM related
to the brother of the Mayor!" Mr Grant says, as though he is explaining the
answer to a maths problem.
I get it. Clever,
but not really funny!
"Is there any
other treasure?" Andy asks, breaking the sudden silence in the room.
"Follow me," Mr
Grant says to us.
We don't go far.
Out of the lounge room and straight around the doorway into the library.
"Where's the
treasure?" Andy asks. "Is it hidden?"
"Is there a
treasure map in here?" I say.
"No need for a
map," Mr Grant tells us. "You're surrounded by the treasure."
"We're surrounded
by books, actually, Tom," Andy tells him, looking all around. "In case you
hadn't noticed."
"And I've been
told that if I was to sell these valuable books for what they are worth, the
room would be full and overflowing with gold coins. Out the door and into the
hall. Maybe even across into to the dining room."
"Wow!" I say.
"Then Long John Silver would certainly be after you with his sword! And Captain
Hook, too!"
"And, there is
more in here than books," Mr Grant tells us. "This may not mean much to you,
but there are letters, in people's own handwriting. In ink, which is something
that people today wouldn't know much about. Before social media. Before the
internet. Before computers and printers. Before typewriters. Before mobile
phones."
"What's a
typewriter?" I ask.
Mr Grant smiles at
me and replies, "That's exactly what I mean! People used to write on paper,
like you do in school. Remember when you wrote about the helicopter ride?
That's how people once used to communicate with each other and tell each other
things."
He explains about
pens and ink (not biros) and writing and envelopes and stamps and postmen and
mail coaches and the Pony Express. He loses me somewhere along the way.
"I found a letter
in here," he says, lowering his voice, like he is telling us a secret. "It was
written by an Englishman named Charles Dickens to his friend in America, Mr
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. They are both famous writers. And the letter
included some pages of notes for a book that he was thinking of writing called
`The Parish Boy's Progress' about the dreadful conditions for boys in London
and how they had to steal to survive, and about the atrocious conditions in
orphanages for boys `lucky' enough to have a place to sleep and to be fed."
This is
interesting, sort of.
"Have you ever
heard of `Oliver Twist'?" he asks Andy and me.
"I think so," Andy
replies. I saw a movie about a boy called Oliver Twist. There was a lot of
singing in it."
Mr Grant says,
"Yes. The movie, `Oliver' was a musical version of Mr Dickens' book `Oliver
Twist'."
"Is that one of
your books in here, Mr Grant?" I ask. I know that I should be more interested,
but I think that I don't know enough to be as excited as Mr Grant appears to
be.
"No, Kurt," he
says. "But this letter was written by Charles Dickens himself, in his own
handwriting, plus the notes that he included about the book which he hadn't actually
written yet, which later became `Oliver Twist'. His letter asked Mr Longfellow
his opinion of the story outline. I have no idea how it came to be included
with all of these other things!"
His second mention
of `Longfellow' has caught my attention. Like William's long fellow! And Mr
Grant's! And Ron's. `Big'.
Andy asks, "Didn't
you say it was called something about a parish boy, Tom?"
"That's the
interesting bit, Andy," Mr Grant replies. "Apparently that's what he was going
to call it, but it ended up being `Oliver Twist' with `The Parish Boy's
Progress' as its subtitle."
"What's a
subtitle, Mr Grant?" I ask.
Mr Grant takes a
deep breath, then says, "Sorry guys. I didn't mean to bore you and give you a
lesson in English Literature. It's just that what I have found, this treasure,
is probably worth a lot of money."
"Oh," I say.
"That's really nice. Are we still going to go exploring?"
"Where would you
like to start?" Mr Grant asks us, finally changing from HIS interesting
discovery to what WE hope to discover. "Do we think that there might be other
treasure?"
William and Karl
appear at the doorway, dressed. Good timing! But I wonder why they're not
naked, like William had suggested while ever they were on Mr Grant's property!
Maybe they've thought about it a bit more.
"Other treasure?"
William asks. "Why, have you guys found some already? What did we miss?"
"It's OK, Will,"
Mr Grant tells him. "I was just explaining about all of the books and letters
in here."
"Oh. Yes," William
acknowledges. "I heard Dad talk about how valuable they are."
"Well," Mr Grant
begins. "I've also found... a secret room down here, which just possibly might
contain some treasure. I just haven't explored it yet."
"Hell, Yeah!"
William says.
Mr Grant looks at
Andy and me. I can tell that he's not referring to the secret passage upstairs
off the bathroom. That's our secret. Well, one of our secrets!
"Come on," he says.
"Let's see how good you are at playing detectives. Ever heard of Sherlock
Holmes?"
"I have," Andy
tells everyone. "He was really good at spotting clues that nobody else saw."
"Right up my
alley!" William announces. "Details!"
Mr Grant leads us
into the big kitchen. "OK, guys. Go for it. See if you can find the secret
room."
We all walk
around, looking. I'm thinking that there must be a secret panel.
But it can't be on
the side where the windows are. That would just take us out onto the verandah
near where Mr Smith cooked lunch yesterday.
Andy, like me, and
thinking secret panels, presses every bit of wall at the far end of the
kitchen. But I think that if anything opened there, it might only open, again,
onto the verandah, at the back of the house.
"It can't be up at
this end," Karl announces, because it's just the dining room on the other side.
"Unless there is a very skinny room between them."
Andy immediately comes
back to join Karl at this end of the room, near the door, and checks for any
swinging panels. None.
"Is there a trap
door?" I ask.
Karl responds,
"That would only land you under the house, wouldn't it? We know that there are
no rooms down there! It's all open space. That's where the Landau is."
William is pacing
up and down, along the shelving.
Andy, Karl and I
join him, except we start pushing knot holes in the wood, lifting things on the
shelves and looking for levers or something.
William goes out
into the hall, then comes back in. Then goes back out.
I look at Mr
Grant's face. He is smirking.
I know that there
can't be a secret room between the kitchen and the hall! Unless it was for a
mouse! And Mr Grant did say `secret room', not `secret passage' or `secret
panel'.
William comes back
in and announces, "Twelve!"
"What?" Karl says.
"What's twelve?"
William doesn't
answer. He starts striding, and counting, from the doorway to the far wall of
the kitchen. He stops and says, "Fifteen!"
"What are you
doing, Will?" Andy asks. "And what's twelve and fifteen got to do with it?"
William walks back
to the door and, with his right foot out in the hall and his left foot here in
the kitchen, he leans back against the door frame, looking back toward us.
"Come here, all of you," he says.
Karl, of course,
is first to respond. William takes hold of him and pulls Karl's body back
against his own. "What do you see?" he asks my brother.
While slipping a
hand behind his backside to take advantage of his physical closeness to
William, Karl answers, "A kitchen on this side, a door, and some stairs and a
zebra skin on the other side."
William pushes him
aside, out into the hall. "Andy?" he says.
Andy takes up a
position similar to where Karl was standing, but without feeling for William's
cock. "That's all I can see too," he tells William.
I've been
thinking. William took fifteen paces in here from the door to the wall, but
announced `twelve' when he came in from the hall. The difference is three.
Little kids' maths!
I replace Andy
and, ignoring the nice feeling of William's big, soft bulge against my
backside, I focus on the outside wall, next to the stairs.
"So, what do YOU
see?" William asks me.
"I see where the
secret room is!" I whisper to him. Then I run to the stairs and up to the
landing. I check. It's about three of my strides wide, underneath the zebra.
Everyone is
standing at the kitchen doorway looking at me. I slowly and proudly walk down
the stairs and across to four sets of focussed eyes. "The secret room is behind
the stairs and under the landing!" I announce.
Mr Grant starts to
applaud. William joins him and says, "This wall is fifteen paces long on the
inside but only twelve paces long on the outside, so Kurt is right. There has
to be a room three paces wide underneath the landing."
Karl and Andy rush
down and start looking for the way in. Pressing panels and knot holes and
looking for anything else that might work as strangely as the front door knob.
They even try pushing and pulling the end of the banister for the stairs.
"Maybe it's on the
other side of the stairs!" Karl announces, swapping to the lounge-side of the
room, and their search resumes.
"I bags doing the
wall under the landing. You can do the bits under the stairs," Karl tells Andy.
While they are over there, I double-check everything on this side in case they
missed something.
"Good detective
work Will and Kurt!" Mr Grant compliments us. Then he asks Andy and Karl, "Find
a secret entrance?"
"No," is the group
answer.
"Well, it mustn't
be out here then, must it?" Mr Grant asks, smirking at them.
"I know!" Karl
shouts. "And it's obviously not in the kitchen either. Mr Grant was trying to
trick us by taking us in there first. The entrance must be from the lounge room!"
He and Andy dash off to search. William strolls after them.
Mr Grant doesn't
move. The detective part of my brain says, if the entrance was from the lounge
room, wouldn't he be going too, to watch them discover it?
"Do you know where
the entrance is, Mr Grant?" I ask him.
"Yes, I do," he
answers.
"And they won't
find it in the lounge room, will they?" I put to him.
"Very good!" he
tells me. "No, they won't."
"Which means," I
continue, "that I reckon it must be behind the last lot of shelves in the
kitchen."
He pats me a few
times on the tail as I go back into the kitchen to investigate, and says,
"Nice!"
I turn, grin at
him and ask, "Did you mean nice detective work or nice something else?"
"Yes," he answers.
Then he adds, "That's the correct answer to the question that you asked. I'll
explain it to you in a maths lesson sometime," he tells me.
I feel Junior
stir. He likes maths lessons too. The ones after school.
I walk to the far
end of the kitchen and examine the shelving more closely, starting at the end
one. It's solid! And no hidden triggers, I'm positive. I've double-checked.
The next one, I'm
not so sure about. No moving parts. No buttons that I can see. I ask Mr Grant
to lift me up so that I can look on its top.
He tells me to
open my legs, like in the weir. I feel his head come between my thighs and he
lifts me as he stands up. This brings back very happy memories, except that,
this time, we both have our clothes on.
"No," I tell him.
"There's nothing up here." He puts me down.
However, as I lean
on the shelving for support, I detect the slightest of movements, if only to
indicate that it's not fixed solidly to the wall, like the last one.
"It's behind here,
I think," I tell Mr Grant. "But I can't work out how to get in."
The other three
amigos come back through the door. "There is no secret door over there!" Karl
announces. "We checked all of it."
"What's going on?"
William asks. "What are you two doing, down in that corner?"
"I've found the
entrance to the secret room. It's behind this shelf," I tell him. "Except, I
just can't work out how to get to it."
"Are you sure?" he
asks me.
"Yes," is all that
I say.
Karl joins in,
"Are you 100% certain?"
"Yes," I say
again.
"How do you know?"
Andy puts to me.
"Process of
elimination," I tell him. "Plus, some super detective work."
William joins Mr
Grant and me and I tell him about how solidly fixed to the wall the last shelf
is, and that the one next to it isn't the same.
"Hmm," he says, testing
them both. He knocks on them and we hear different-sounding responses. "I think
you're onto something."
He checks the next
one. "This one's the same," he says. Then he continues checking, all the way
back to the door. He walks out into the hall and back again.
"I see it now!" he
declares. "Problem solved. The clue was right here all along!"
Andy, Karl and I
all gather around him. "Where?" Karl asks.
"Well, you can't
see it if you're standing on it!" William tells him.
Karl moves.
"I only see floor
boards," he says to William.
"And that's why
you can't draw like I can," William answers. "Can anyone else see what I can
see?"
This time it's
Andy who speaks up. "I only see some scratch marks on the boards."
"And is there anything
special about the marks?" William is sounding just like a school teacher.
There is silence.
Mr Grant joins in.
"Why don't you close the door. Then perhaps you'll see what William is talking
about."
Andy pushes the
door shut. And It's only then that I see it. The faint marks are straight and
almost line up with the front of the shelving. It's not obvious when the door
is open, because then, if you can see the marks, then you can't see the
shelving. And if you are standing next to the shelving then you can't see the
marks under your feet.
"So, what do the
marks mean, Sherlock?" Karl puts to William. I detect a tone of sarcasm and
annoyance because he hasn't worked it out for himself, yet. Or he can't.
I go over to Mr
Grant and whisper, "Do the shelves all move along until the entrance is
visible?"
I'm expecting to
get a friendly pat on the tail as a reward, or at least my hair ruffled.
Instead, maybe because everyone else is here, Mr Grant holds up his fist for me
to bump.
I do it.
Mr Grant stands
with his arms crossed. I copy him. William notices and joins us.
Karl looks at
Andy, who shrugs.
"I'll give you a
clue," William says to the two them. "What could possibly make those marks on
the floor? Look carefully at the marks and whatever might be near them."
Andy says, "Well,
the door didn't make them, because then, when it opened and closed, the marks
would be like part of a circle. We have some like that at our place."
"Excellent
deduction, Dr Watson," Mr Grant says. Then, he has to explain that Dr Watson
was Sherlock Holmes' assistant.
"The only other
thing near the marks," Andy says to us, "is the set of shelves."
I can't help
myself. "So, could the shelves possibly make those marks on the floor?"
"Well," Karl says,
"they would have to move to leave marks."
"So, guys," Mr
Grant says, "do you want to see whether you could get the set of shelves to move?"
This is exciting! I
go to help them. It's only then that I notice, on the white-painted door, three
sort-of grooves. One across the top, one at the bottom and one across the
middle. All white, same as the rest of the door. "Look!" I say to everyone.
William responds
first. "They look as though something is supposed to slide into them. Maybe
something on the back of the shelf."
I'm eager to use
my muscles to help slide the shelf but am surprised that it moves so easily,
especially with four pairs of hands to help. And, it actually feels as though
it could be on rollers. Hidden rollers. Rollers that could leave marks on the
floor.
On the white wall
behind where the shelf used to be, I see more grooves, same as on the back of
the door.
It doesn't take a
genius to work out that the next shelf, and the next, and so on, should slide
along those grooves and on their hidden rollers.
We are all anxious
to see the secret room, and carefully moving the shelves takes only about a
minute, at most.
Suddenly, as the
second-last shelf slides, there it is!
It's dark.
"Maybe that's
where the ghost lives!" Andy tells us, waving his arms. "Woooo!"
There is no
discussion. After Andy's previous ghost joke, William and Karl each grab one of
Andy's windmill arms and thrust him into the darkness.
William
immediately pushes the last set of shelving back over the entrance, calls, "Say
hello to the ghost for us!" And he leans against it to hold it there.
"May the ghost of
the big house be kind to your balls!" Karl cackles loud enough so that Andy can
hear him.
In the moments of
silence that follow, I wonder whether that was a fair thing to do, because of
the tough time that Andy has had physically, and probably emotionally too. It's
only now that he seems to have been recovering.
Then we hear from
inside the secret room, "Help! Aargh! No! Don't touch
me! Get away! No! Aaaaaaargh!"
Then there is silence again.
Dead silence.
We wait.
Nothing.
William
knocks on the shelving and calls, "Hello?"
What? Does he expect Andy to say, `Come in!' or `Who's
there?'
Now I'm really concerned. I call out, "Andy, are you
OK?"
"He's bluffing," Karl says, nervously, probably
wanting to reassure himself that he hasn't done something that would cause Andy
to be injured.
No response.
"Right-O!"
Mr Grant says. "Joke's over. Open it up, Will! Let him out!"
I help William slide the shelving aside again and peer
into the darkness. "Andy?" I call.
"I can't see anything," I tell them. "It's too dark.
I'll get one of the lanterns." And, I immediately dash back to grab the lantern
that I saw at the other end of the room.
"Here," I say.
Mr Grant takes it,
turns it on and heads into the black space. I follow him, with Karl and William
right behind me.
We look around,
following the light of the lantern as Mr Grant shines it into all of the
corners.
"Where is he?" Karl
asks.
I see big pots,
pans, jugs and barrels, containers full of things, but no Andy.
"Where could he
have gone?" I ask.
"There's not even
a body," Karl remarks.
"Not funny!" I
tell him, punching his shoulder and frowning. Then I turn to Mr Grant. "There
isn't a real ghost, is there, Mr Grant?"
"Of course not,
Kurt," he attempts to reassure me, with his arm around my shoulders.
Why do I not feel
convinced?
So, I turn to
William, "Did you really just make up that story, William, or is there really a
ghost who kills boys then make their bodies disappear."
"I made up the
whole thing!" William tells me. "But, there are some things about this house
that are weird. Really weird!"
"Is he hiding
somewhere?" Karl asks. "Could he fit inside any of those large container things?"
Mr Grant says, "In
the first place, no. And, in the second place, assuming that he actually could
fit into something, how would he have found it so quickly in the dark?"
"Yeah. I guess."
Karl's voice sounds like it does when he loses three hands of poker to me, in a
row. Miserable.
"I don't get it!"
Mr Grant says, waving the lantern around for the dozenth time. "There was no other
way in, so there's no way out. You guys did check the lounge room and the wall
out there beside the stairs, didn't you?"
"We all did,"
William says. "We couldn't have missed anything. And, like you said, how could
he see in the dark, even if there was another door?"
"Well, he has to
be somewhere!" Mr Grant announces, very nervously. "So, let's check all of the
possibilities. William, can you please check under the house, in case he's
fallen through a trap door somewhere. Karl, please go back into the loungeroom
and check if he's in there, in case he found a door that only opens from this side.
And Kurt, can you please go around to the back verandah, in case he ended up
out there, somehow. And, I'll check upstairs, although I have no idea how he
could get up there!"
Mr Grant is
shaking. I don't think that I've ever seen him look so worried before as he is
now; it's as though he's about to cry. I know what that feels like, and looks
like. Like the day Mrs Cameron looked upset. And how Mum was before her tears
burst out. Like how I felt when Ron left, and like how I feel now, too.
We all hurry back
into the kitchen and make for the door.
"I forgot,"
William says, "that we can't get out unless all of the shelves are pushed back
into place.
We do it, and open
the door. And we all pile out and begin racing in all of the directions to
which we were assigned, when I hear Mr Grant call out from the stairs, "Andy!"
We all swing
around to look; Karl from the loungeroom door; William and I from half-way
towards the front door.
There he is!
It IS Andy!
He's sitting up on
the landing, with his feet on the next step down, his knees up, his arms around
his knees, hugging himself.
Staring. At
nothing. Just staring. Like he's asleep but his eyes are open. So is his mouth.
Half. Like how we saw William in Mr Grant's car the night that Aunt Lilly's
house burnt down.
We all hurry back.
Mr Grant already has one arm around Andy.
"Andy, what
happened?" Mr Grant is asking him. "How did you get here?"
Andy looks at each
of us. Well, almost at us, more like through us, as though he is focussing on
something that is behind us.
I look around to
check. I see nothing. Nothing. No ghost!
He looks up at Mr
Grant and I hear him whisper, "I can't tell you how I got here. One moment I
was in the dark room and then I was up here."
Karl says, "We
were scared and thought that a ghost had taken you."
Andy looks at him,
swallows, and his voice croaks, "There IS a ghost."
(to be continued)
The parallel
version to this story, is told through the eyes of Tom Grant, the `Schoolie'.
Find it at https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/schoolie
If you'd like a
full picture of their lives and thoughts, you should read both concurrently.
-----
If you like the story, and haven't said
'hello' yet, please take a couple of minutes to email me.
rob.zz@hotmail.com
I try to reply to everyone, though
maybe not the same day. Please be patient.
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