Date: Fri, 19 Nov 2021 17:50:34 -0600 From: William Marshal Subject: Quarterback Keeper: 24 Quarterback Keeper: 24 Wednesday the Spirit Day was "We've Got Your Back." The Student Council divided up students into groups of four to five kids and gave the groups jobs to do around the school and the town. The groups were intentionally assigned to put kids together who wouldn't otherwise be in classes together or socialize with each other. Ian was assigned to work with a group of students helping the drama teacher clean the stage, and organize the props and costumes. Ian and Grant Goodwin were given the task of sorting and cataloging the props closet. Grant was a handsome sophomore that played JV football, but Ian didn't see him around school, except at lunch, in choir, and occasionally in the halls before and after school. The props closet was dark, narrow, and deep, so Ian offered to find the props and let Grant catalogue them. Grant looked at the floor. Then Ian said, "I just wish it weren't so dark and creepy back there." Grant lifted his eyes and said, "It doesn't bother me. I can go back there." "Thank you," Ian said. The boy's soon fell into a pattern of Grant calling out a prop and the quantity, and Ian writing it down. "Walking canes....five ....black umbrellas....four ...old time general's hat....one." "Old time general's hat?" Ian asked. "My freshman year we did Pirates of the Penzance. I was the Major General." Then Grant appear wearing the hat and began to sing: "I am the very model of a modern Major-General, I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral, I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical;..." Ian laughed, and when Grant finished, said, "I need to take a break." Ian and Grant grabbed a Coke and sat on the front of the stage. "Grant," Ian said, "I don't want to be insensitive, but I'm confused." "Let me guess," Grant said. "You are confused by the fact that I can't read or write very well, but can memorize that silly song." "Yeah. If you don't want to tell me, just say I'm being an ass, and mind my own business." Grant took a deep breath and said, "I just get so tired of people thinking I'm stupid because I am in Special Education. I really hate it when people use `sped' or `short bus' as an insult." "I'm sorry for asking." "Actually," Grant said, "I wish more people would just ask rather than just assume I'm ... well I'm stupid. The truth is, the tests say I have a very high IQ. But, I also have dyslexia, so the written word is a bitch. I don't know whether you notice, but when the choir director distributes a new song, I don't sing the first couple of times. I just listen to the words and soon I have it." "So when you are holding your music folder...? "Just a prop. I sing every song from memory," Grant said. "Okay," Ian said, "I don't want to sound stupid, but what is dyslexia?" "It's a reading disorder. It affects people differently. For me, the letters and words just seem jumbled. It becomes worse when I am under pressure. The worst is when the class is reading aloud. Before I was diagnosed and put in a special education class, I would panic anytime the teacher would call on students to read aloud in front of the class. One time I was so upset, I threw up when the teacher called on me." Grant laughed, "Of course, I never had to worry about reading aloud again. I would just tighten my neck and puff my cheeks, and the teacher would skip me." "I've heard you and your friends talking at lunch, you always seem up on current events, sports, politics, and other topics. How do you do that?" Ian asked. "My family is very political and so staying current is important if you want to be part of the conversation. Mom and dad don't cut me slack just because I have a reading disability. Thankfully, they bought me a computer and iPad early on, so I watch a lot of news, documentaries, and PBS. I also listen to NPR. I know that makes me sound like a geek, but it's what I have to do to learn. Also, I use the text-speech functions of the computer. I can have it read me newspapers, magazines, and books. I also use it for writing my papers." "Wow," Ian said, "you seem to have it figured out." Grant laughed, "No, there are still things that are a problem, but I just have to figure out a work around." Then Grant got serious, "Actually, I have it easier than many kids in special ed., I am above average IQ, and my parents remind me of that every time I say something is too hard. Dad just says, `You're the genius; figure it out.' He is right, I can usually figure it out. The kids I worry about are those, who no matter how hard they try, will never get it. The kinds of jobs they can do are disappearing, and the social safety net in this country sucks." "I don't get that," Ian said, "The United States is the richest country in the world and it can't seem to take care of people's basic needs." "We can, we just don't want to. My dad says the reason is because the U.S. hasn't really been devastated like Europe and other parts of the world. After WWI and WWII, times were tough in Europe and Japan. They had to pool their nations' resources to just survive. So, the idea of the government taking care of everyone, not just the rich, became a part of their system. It was that, or risk the population rising up in a Marxist revolution. Of course, my dad also will tell you he's the only liberal Democrat still living in Oklahoma." "There are a lot of conservative ideas in this part of the world," Ian said. "That's why I was surprises that Salt Fork was so accepting of gay students and teachers." "My dad's says is that it was good that Mr. Bartlett was one of the guys that came out. Everyone knows and respects him. Dad said every pastor was preaching against divorce and remarriage until it was one of their big givers' kids who got divorced. Then suddenly divorce wasn't so bad. Hell the family values Republicans have given us two divorced presidents." "Damn Grant, I wish you had more regular classes. Kids should hear your ideas. You would make them think." "I will be. I already am in regular math and science classes. Next semester, I will be totally mainstreamed." "That's great," Ian said. "Yeah, I am really looking forward to having Mr. Simmons for world history. All the kids say he is fun and interesting. I am a bit jealous that you get to have discussions with them all the time." "It's not like it's the U.N. every night," Ian said, "but they do have grown up conversations and they treat me like a real person, with real ideas. -- Hey, we'd better get back to work or Ms. Flowers will wonder what we did all morning." "Oh, Aunt Sandy will just say, `Grant is a born talker; he is meant for real work; he's going into politics or sales." "Ms. Flowers is your aunt?" "Yeah, she's been casting me in plays since I was ten. If it wasn't some kid's part in the high school play, it was a part in summer theatre. She was actually the first to figure out how I learned things. She and my mother would read the play to each other, and I would listen and learn my lines. Aunt Sandy said I am the only one she can count on to have my lines memorized before the first practice." At lunch, all the kids that were assigned to work in the auditorium gathered on the stage to eat. The cafeteria had made box lunches. Derek Stambaugh was an ass and took every opportunity to show it. Also because he was big and mean, he often got away with it. Today his target was Shelly Devin. Shelly was also in Special Education, but unlike Grant, she has severe mental and social development delay. Derek was teasing Shelly. "Come on Shelly, I'll give you my chocolate chip cookie if you give me a kiss." Shelly was torn, she liked cookies and Derek's attention, but her mother had warned her about being too friendly with boys. She wasn't sure if kissing was being too friendly. "Derek, leave Shelly alone," Grant commanded. "Well if it isn't Super Sped himself. You can just stay the fuck out of my business Goodwin. Shelly and I are friends, aren't we Shelly?" "Stambaugh, why do you alway have to be a bully?" Ian said. "Leave Shelly alone." "Oh look, the fag wants to get involved now too," Derek said loudly, "Why don't you just keep your cock sucking mouth shut?" Ms, Flower was in the drama office ordering scripts for the next play and heard the conversation. She stormed out, "Derek Stambaugh, go to the office." "Gladly, didn't want to be a part of this `We've Got Your Back" shit anyway. And, I for sure don't want to spend my afternoon with speds, and fags. I hate this fucking town." Derek stomped out of the auditorium and slammed the door. Grant said. "The Stambaughs got hung up on the evolutionary ladder. The entire clan are a bunch of knuckle draggers." After lunch, Grant and Ian finished cataloguing the props. Ms. Flowers looked at their work and was impressed. "This is great. It's the end of the day, so you guys can head home if you like." "Thanks," Ian and Grant said in unison. Ian didn't have cross country practice and football practice had been before school, so he and Grant walked out of the high school together. A block from the high school Derek and his two older brothers stepped out from behind a fence. Derek said, "What do we have here, the fag and the sped." One of Derek's brothers added, "Yeah, Hitler had it right. We need to rid the world of perverts and retards." "I think it's time to teach these two to respect the Master Race," the third Stambaugh said. Ian and Grant looked at each other, and then started to laugh. "What's so funny?" Derek shouted. "The thought that you and your brother's are part of the Master Race," Grant said. "Look dipshits, in case you haven't noticed," One of Derek's brothers said, "You're out numbers," The other brother added, "Yeah, there's three of us and only two of you." "Damn," Ian said, "They are the Master Race; they can count to three." "No fucking fag is going to make fun of me," Derek's first brother yelled and threw a punch aimed at Ian's left eye. Ian's counter was swift and devastating. He blocked the punch with his left forearm and then delivered a blow to his attacker's Solar Plexus. The attacker dropped to the ground gasping for air. Seeing their brother go down Derek and his last brother attacked. Derek took a swing at Ian who easily evaded it, and countered with a right that knocked Derek's nose out of alignment. Grant resorted to his football skills, grabbed his attacker behind the knees, lifted, and drove him forcefully into the ground, leaving him gasping for air. When the altercation was over, Ian and Derek heard clapping. They looked to see where it was coming from and saw a group of around fifteen students who had witnessed the fight. Ian and Grant smiled and waved to the crowd which gave a cheer. About that time, a Salt Fork police officer pulled up. "Hello Office Morgan," Grant said with a smile. "Hello Grant," Officer Gabe Morgan said. "What is going on here?" Grant motioned to the Stambaugh's lying about and said, "The Master Race just had its ass kicked by a fag and a sped." Ian and the crowd laughed. "So who started it?" Morgan asked. The kids and a couple of adults all started pointing to Derek and his brothers and saying "They did." Angel Rodriguez, piped up, "I got it all on video. I've already got 47 likes." Morgan said, "I might need that video for evidence." "No problem, I'll send you the link. It's called `Master Race Gets Ass Kicked." The crowd laughed and started looking for the link. By the end of the day the Stambaugh's would be YouTube infamous, at least in Salt Fork. Morgan could barely keep from laughing himself. He said, "Okay, does anyone want to press charges?" Ian and Grant shook their heads no. Derek started to raise a hand, but his brother pulled it down. Morgan looked around and said, "Well, if no one wants to press charges, I don't see any reason to waste time writing up an official report; however," Morgan looked at the Stambaughs, "should some other incident occur, I do have my notes, and of course there is that video. So, if something else happens in the future, I'm sure we can add hate crime to the charges. Do you understand?" "Fuck this town," the oldest Stambaugh brother said, "we'll just go live with our dad in Texas." Again, applause and cheers came from the spectators." As the brother began to walk away, someone started singing, "Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah, hey, hey, hey, goodbye..." Soon everyone was joining in. As it happened, by noon the next day, the three Stambaugh boys were on their way to Waco, Texas. No one, including their mother, shed any tears to see them go. When they were alone, Ian said, "You seemed awfully chummy with Office Morgan. Grant winked, "He's dating my Aunt Sally. I'm guessing she tipped him off that there might be trouble after school." *********************** At supper, Joe said, "Ian, I hear you were in another fight?" Ian looked at his plate, and said, "Yes, sir." "From what I was told, you didn't start it," Joe said, "but my question is whether you could have avoided it?" "Maybe." "Look Ian, I'm not angry, but I am concerned. I know you are more than capable of handling yourself in a fight, and don't back down. I also know that people underestimate you. Those two things combined are gunpowder just waiting for a spark." "So, are you telling me to back down?" Ian asked. "No, what I am asking you to do is to try diplomacy and tact before restoring to force. Did you do or say anything to escalate the conflict today?" Ian nodded his head, "I kind of implied they were stupid." "I am sure that was easy, and I am sure how you said it was funny, but part of the problem with the world today is our leaders are more interested in scoring points than solving problems. We all sometimes fall into that trap when dealing with people with whom we have a conflict. Look Ian, you are smart, witty, and quick, so people like the Stambaughs are always at a disadvantage when they engage with you. Studies have shown that people who have poorly developed communications skills are quick to resort to violence. Just remember that when you deal with the Stambaughs of this world." "I still don't get what Ian should have done," Tyler said. "Okay, Ian, how are Derek and Kevin different?" "Kevin's father was an ass and taught him gay people were bad, and Kevin upset because he didn't have any friends, Derek is different because ............." Ian stopped because he didn't know how to finish his sentence. "Ian," Joe said, "You put yourself in Kevin's shoes, that's what we call empathy. As a result you reached out to Kevin, won him over, and made him a friend. That was heroic. You might not have been able to win Derek over, but you need to ask yourself why you didn't try. The same way, I have to ask why it took me so long to reconcile with my cousins. It wasn't until I saw Tyler with them at the Cubs game that I realized I was as much to blame for our rift as they were. I didn't have to wait for them to change before I decided to rebuild our relationship--I was just enjoying wallowing in a grudge." "I think I get it," Ian said. The conversation moved on to other topics. Ian said, "I can't figure out what to wear for Spirit Day tomorrow." Thursday's Spirit Week theme was "A Novel Idea;" students and staff were supposed to dress like a literary character. "What are you guys wearing?" Ian asked. "I think I'll sit this one out," Tyler said. "I don't really have an idea, and I think it is a stupid Spirit Day theme anyway. That's what you get when you put an English teacher in charge of Homecoming." Joe smiled, "I thought you said Spirit Week was the best week of school. Now you're going to skip one of the days, just because you've never read any novels." "I've read novels," Tyler said defensively. Who are you going as?" "I was thinking I would be Jay Gatsby." "Oh sure, you're the only guy in Salt Fork who can just walk into his closet and come out a 1920s millionaire," Tyler said. "Someone is a bit bitter," Joe said. "I'm sorry, but I just haven't had a good idea, and it bugs me," Tyler said. Joe piped up, "I've got it! We can sew a couple of wash clothes together to make a loincloth, and you can go as Tarzan." "Not helping!" "Conan the Barbarian? .... Ian was laughing, and Tyler had to smile as well. Finally, Joe said, "I have an idea, but we all have to get up thirty-minutes earlier tomorrow so we can get ready." "What is it?" Ian asked. "You'll just have to trust me," Joe said. Tyler gave Joe a kiss and said, "Oh, that's easy." The next morning Joe had breakfast ready and told Tyler and Ian to eat up; then get showered, and he would have their outfits ready. After dressing, they stood together in front of the mirror, Tyler said, "We are fucking hot." All three were dressed in straight-leg Levi's. Joe was wearing work boots, Tyler motorcycle boots, and Ian black Chuck Taylors. Up top, Joe had on a blue work shirt with the top two buttons open to show a white T-shirt and the sleeves rolled into cuffs above his biceps, Tyler had a leather jacket over a white T, and Ian a blue denim jacket over a white T. All three had their hair slicked back and held in place by pomade. "Okay, I get that we are from the 1950s," Ian said, "but who are we?" Joe said, "We're Greasers. `The Outsiders' is a book set in Tulsa in the 50s. The Greasers were kids from the poor side of town; their rivals were the Socs, short for social, who were from the better part of town. I am Darry Curtis, and you are my brothers. Tyler is Sodapop and you are Ponyboy." "Cool," Ian said, "I need to read that book." "Or, you can just watch the movie," Tyler said. "Read the book," Joe said, "When you create the images of the characters in your own mind, they have much greater depth." Ian pulled out his phone, "I need to take a picture of us and send it to Michael." Make it quick," Joe said, "We need to get to school." On the walk to school, Ian received a text from Michael and laughed. "What did he say?" Tyler asked. "He said, OMG You'd better still be wearing that when I get there. Tell Uncle Joe and Tyler they're hot too." Ian, Tyler and Joe were a hit, particularly with the sophomores, who had read "The Outsiders," the year before. Avery and Zach were Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. Kevin and Zoey came as Archie and Veronica. Admittedly, not a traditional novel, but Kevin was a fan. For Ian, the day seemed to drag. More than once he found himself hard from thinking about Michael. Avery even noticed once and drew a picture of a Christmas tree with the words Scotch Pine and passed it to him. Ian blushed. Fortunately, Zach was the only other student who caught on. After school, Ian had cross country practice and was the first one out from the locker room and ready to start the run. As soon as the coaches told them the route they were training on, Ian was off. Normally, Ian would stay with the team for the first half of the run, then kick it up to race speed. However today, he shifted into race gear from the start, and finished well ahead of the rest of the team. Back at the apartment, Ian took a quick shower and redressed in his Ponyboy outfit. When he walked into the living kitchen Tyler was talking to Joe. Thursday was the one night Tyler was home early, since the practice before a game was short and low contract. Tyler said, "I really like this look. Too bad it really isn't in style." Joe smiled and said, "I know a bar in Dallas where it's always in style. Maybe we can go down for a long weekend and I will take you there." "Can I go too," Ian asked. "Not until you are a Ponyman," Joe said. Around seven o'clock, Michael and his parents arrived. When Mindy saw the guys, she said, "I get it now: Darry, Sodapop, and Ponyboy." Then she turned to Michael and said, "Is that why you are dressed like a Soc?" Michael was wearing a white Oxford shirt, pleated, tan chinos, loafers, and his letter jacket. To complete the look he was wearing glasses instead of his usual contacts, and an analog watch rather than his smart watch. "Huh?" Charles said in confusion. Mindy punched him in the arm, "Did you ever read a book," she said. "Joe, Tyler, and Ian are Greasers from `The Outsiders,' and Michael is a Soc." Charles still looked confused. "It's a good thing you are rich and hung like a.........." Michael clapped his hands over his ears and began singing the OSU fight song. The boys burst into laughter. After Charles and Mindy left, Tyler turned on the Thursday night football game and Joe made some popcorn. Ian and Michael sat down with Tyler and soon Joe showed up with popcorn and beer. As he handed beers to Ian and Michael he said, "I assume you aren't going out this evening." The boys smiled and shook their heads. By the end of the third quarter, the Cowboys were up by 28. Joe noticed that Ian gave Michael a wink and a slight head gesture in the direction of his bedroom, and the two slipped out of the room. "Finally," Tyler said, "I thought they'd never leave." He then stretched out on the couch and put his head in Joe's lap. Joe gently massaged Tyler, as the two watched the game. When Dallas scored again, Joe said, "I'm going to bed." "To sleep?" "Unless I get a better offer," Joe said. Tyler grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. Ian and Michael had been playing video games, but Ian was ready for another kind of game. Tyler and Michael stood and faced each other. Tyler kicked you his shoes and Michael followed. Then socks, pants, underwear, jacket, and shirt. For each item of clothing Ian removed, Michael followed suit until they stood naked. After admiring each other in silence, Tyler reached for his denim jacket and put it on. Michael put on his letter jacket. "Fuck you are hot," Ian said, and grabbed Michael for a deep, cock-stirring kiss. Michael fell back onto the edge of the bed, grabbed his ankles, and presented his hungry ass to his lover. Ian dropped to his knees and dove into Michael. "Oh fuck," Michael moaned, "I need you so bad." Ian licked, probed, and lubed Michael with his tongue. Ian stood and looked down at Michael. He placed his hard and leaking cock at Michael's tight hole. Michael was beyond sexy in his prep school letter jacket. Ian reached down and gave Michael's nipples a hard twist. Michael's cock was oozing pre and his ass was twitching against Ian's sensitive glans. "Fuck me now," Michael demanded, and Ian sunk his shaft balls deep. "Shit that hurts so good," Michael said breathlessly. "Pound my hole." Tyler obeyed the command and began to hammer his stud's tight, preppy ass. Without warning, Michael's ass tightened. His dick danced, and he began to spray cum wildly. Ian lost control, and his dick exploded in Michael's ass. At last, spent and gasping for air, Ian collapsed onto his lover's sweaty body. "Oh fuck, I needed that," Michael panted. "You are unbelievable. I can't get enough of you." *********************** Ian reached over and turned off his alarm. Michael was cuddled up next to him. "Babe, are you awake?" "I think I'm dead." "Yeah, how many times did we do it last night?" Ian asked. "My ass is leaking three loads," Michael said. "I'm sorry babe." "Why are you sorry? I was the one demanding you fuck me hard. You just gave me what I wanted," Michael said. "I know, and it was good..." "But...?" "But, tonight, I need passion and romance," Ian said. "I need you to make love to me." Michael rolled up onto Ian and kissed him. "Do you believe that I am in love with you?" Ian nodded. "Babe, it's hard, when we haven't seen each other for a while, not to let the animal take control. I am so happy that you indulge me, but I know my Scottish romantic needs tenderness and passion. So, tonight the lusty beast is caged, and Eros takes the stage." Ian and Michael started to laugh at the pretentious expression of love, but as grandiose as his statement might have been, at the core was the simple, granite truth that Michael and Ian were each other's perfect partner. ******************************* Thank you for reading "Quarterback Keeper." I very much appreciate the comments and words of encouragement I have received from readers. I also have three other stories, "Tough Love in Kansas City" https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/beginnings/tough-love-in-kansas-city/ "Saving Jordan" https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/beginnings/saving-jordan "Aging Out" https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/beginnings/aging-out/ If you would like to be included in updates on my stories, send me an email. Again, thanks, and consider donating to nifty.org to support the platform that makes publishing these stories possible.