That morning, dad realized he should see me and eventually talk to me... you know, like fathers do. I guess he had something to cheer up his mood...

    "So, what about school?" he asked as we were eating breakfast.

    "Ah, everything is fine. I just finished my science project with my new friend, Peter." I replied – yeah, the one who punched me, your office manager's kid... but dad didn't even realize I got hit, my nose got bruised for a week... sigh... I really barely see him... or maybe the point is he barely sees me, even when he's at home...

    "Is he part of the football team?" dad asked.

    "Oh, no." I simply replied.

    "You know, when I was your age all of my friends were part of the team... we were really like a team in and out of school... I was already clever back them, I knew some of them wouldn't make it to college but we all hang out together, then I bonded better with my friends that made it to the city college, where we all graduated." he was saying while I was sipping on my orange juice.

    "And what else have you been up to?" dad asked me.

    "Mmmm... I've been playing some of my stuff, drums, guitar, in the basement..." I replied.

    "Why, somethin'special happened?"

    "Er... not, not really!" I said. This is it, Chris, better not mention you got to know the music club to the old man.

    "So, dad, and you, what are you up to? What brings you the good mood, this morning?" I asked.

    "What do you mean?" he replied as was getting another croissant.

    "Mmm... I mean, you're having breakfast with me and asking about my school stuff..." I shrugged.

    "I have to be all after my preferred son, don't I?!" he said and winked at me.

    "I'm your only son..." I said `non enthusiastically'. I mean, I'm only a late teen, I can't help it.

    "Alright." he said as he put his newspaper aside. "I know I haven't been the best father... but it's just that it brings me a good feeling when I know my kid is going to the same college as the old man went to, to have an administration major and in no time you'll be helping me with the office issues... and one day it's going to be all in yours hands, all yours, you know?" dad said. I could see his eyes shining, but he wasn't looking directly at me, he was probably picturing me like in his `speech'... sigh... ok, ok, I know I should be happy, but `only a teenager here', remember?! Actually a more troubled one than I'd reckon `till recently...

    "Ah, other than that, ... maybe in sequel to this thought, Chris, I've been thinking... I guess we should have a better vibration about here, thinking about moving on, I mean, with you at the football team for your senior year, all already set to go to college next year, I guess we should aim forward, straight, right?!" dad asked kinda enthusiastic.

    "Sure." I simply said as I gulped some milk.

    "I mean, that's how I do at the office, that's how we should do here at home... by the way, I think we should move to a new house... you know, not to have this aura here that we kind of have since... " he paused with a long sigh, he didn't like bringing the subject up. He took a deep breath. "So what do you think?" he asked me.

    Whoa, that was a new one, dad asking my opinion about it. I should better have a good one then!

    "So, dad, I have a suggestion..."

    And that was a not typical animated breakfast at home.

    ***

    Later that day, after I played video games, watched some TV, played guitar a little, I was... well, just zoning out in my bed, thinking, as I looked at the ceiling.

    Yeah, if you were trying to guess you got it right, I was thinking about Peter, awful lots actually.

    I didn't know whether I felt like smiling or if I felt like crying.

    I should smile – maybe not all that much life a goofy one... like I actually do *blush* I should smile because when you see a masterpiece, I mean, I learnt that the artistic makes it to bring this soothing feeling to your soul. In this case, I guess God is the artist who made Peter. I guess he must've gotten inspiration in the angels, in heaven... but that's natural, because they are the closest to Him, right? At the same time, it's `unnatural' looking so beautiful and gorgeous and handsome and... devilish sexy I was thinking as I was picturing Peter, in a cloudy but shiny place at the same time, only with a white fabric wrapped around his lower navel *blush*, with his silk blond hair brushing with the wind, coming towards me...

    At the same time, I was sad, because I knew if he found out I merely think this of him, he'd never look at me again, he'd get disgusted of me... and if the other people found out what I'm thinking right now, other than Peter never talk to me again, I could be dropped out of my own house and beaten by "my friends" at school... I was thinking... I mean, I don't know if Peter would keep talking to me...

    He's so masculine, but at the same time he's so different from the guys from the team, you see, he doesn't have strong features, ample shoulders, strong forearms with lots of hair... I mean, I don't have any hope he's other than straight but... at least, if I had a friend to talk about these things... maybe I'd take this `heavy thing' out of my chest... well, as the team guys are a complete `no option'... what if Peter... I was thinking, with watery eyes, looking at the ceiling.

    ***

    After football practice... er... I reeeally needed to jerk off under the cold spray, to be able not to panic. Mr. Thompson didn't show up because er... I guess he realized I needed that time.

    Well, I was still with wet hair, but already dressed and ready to go home.

    "Oh, I should stop by Mr. Thompson's office to tell him there's no one else in the lockers, that he can close it." I thought to myself.

    "Mr. Thompson?" I excused myself in after knocking on the door.

    "Dubois! Say it!" Mr. Thompson flashed a smile. Geez, he had that `straight guy' confidence I wish I had... sigh...

    "Hi." I said above a whisper... yeah, that confidence that shrinks my own... "It's just... it's just to say that there's no one else at the lockers... they're empty... I mean, you... ahem, coach, can lock it... it is... if you want to..." I trailed off, looking at the ground.

    "Riight." he said as he got up from his chair... geez, other than hunk he was taller than me too.

    "So..." he started with a hand on his neck... "... is everything ok at home, Chris?" he asked.

    "Well... yeah... I guess." I said, not brave enough to look him in the eyes.

    "Are you suuure?" he insisted, lifting my chin with his fingers and quickly `eye scanning me' for bruises.

    "Mmm... so why do I see reddish eyes?" he asked. Damn it, I cried so much yesterday... like a dumb one, for er... no apparent reason... I thought no one had noticed... well, I hope no one had noticed, except for Mr. Thompson up to now.

    "Yes, I'm sure. I mean, everything's alright at home. Dad even had breakfast with me." I replied.

    He continued looking me with questioning eyes. I could lie, but damn it, I don't know if I was that good of a liar, coach was already suspicious and... sigh... it couldn't hurt if I got an advice...

    "Well..." I started...

    In an impulse I hugged him tight and couldn't hold the sudden lump that formed in my throat and it was so good hugging coach tight... he felt so good, and strong and... big to hold.

    He was caressing my wet hair – even if I buried my head on his chest and was forming a wet spot on his t-shirt – and my neck, and my upper back.

    I admit I was getting hard... *blush blush*

    "Whoa, enough of a hug." coach said looking down, meaningfully. He got back to his chair and I sat on the other, across from his desk.

    "So tell me..." he said.

    "Well... *sob* there's this... person... you know..." I started. Coach only nodded.

    "And I kind of like hi... this person (I know he `knows' but still... I feel awkward about saying it out loud)... like, a lot... I guess it's "the real thing"... but I don't know what to do with it..." I said.

    "Mmm... I see. Don't you have a close friend to talk to? It could help..." he asked me.

    "You mean, like one of the guys from the team?" I dumbly asked.

    "Mmm... I guess you have a point." coach said with a thoughtful expression. "I guess you'd better not tell to any of these guys, Dubois, you know... they are good fellows but... how can I put it... I don't think they would exactly... `support' you, or understand you, for instance..." he trailed off.

    "So, that's the problem... Mr. Thompson... I have this new friend... and he... I mean, this new... friend... well that's the person I like..." I finished saying.

    "Well, maybe you should talk to him, but first you must think, how much do you know him? Is he an understanding person? Are you ready for a bad reaction?... I can't answer this one for you, kid." he instructed me.

    "Thanks coach." I said.

    "Remember, anything you need to say, I'm here to talk, ok?" he said. "Now, off to the showers, Dubois!" he almost screamed at me.

    "Preferentially a cold one." he winked at me as I was running out of the door, as he ordered *giggle*

    ***

    Again, after being at the halls, wet hair, bag on my right shoulder I was thinking if I should drop by at the music club room and thinking, you know, `Chris, Chris, don't set up for yourself... you're not part of the music club... and... and you can't be because it's at the same time than practice... besides, the guys would make fun of you'... I was thinking, but then I continued `But the drums could have a problem, after we had to fix'em last Saturday... I could only take a look and if everything's ok, I turn and get outta there...' and I was by the music club door.

    I entered and they were playing the song for Wednesday's Christmas presentation, I guess... but they just finished and were gathering their stuff to leave. Two or three guys greeted me briefly.

    "Hi, Chris. How are you?" Mrs. Jenkins said with a warm smile.

    "Hi." I replied sheepishly.

    "So, you could play with us this Wednesday, to the Christmas presentation." she invited.

    "But... but I didn't rehearse with you guys, ahem, I mean, with you. ...Mrs. Jenkins." I finished.

    "Oh, there's no problem, besides, I reckon you already know how to play the instruments." she continued. I only nodded. "You practiced at your last school, right?" she asked me and I just nodded again. "You have instruments at home, too, right?" she asked me and I nodded, yet, again.

    That would be so nice and beautiful... trying to recover some of the Christmas' spirit, the `warmth' of it, you know, that's kinda lost in me... for the reason, sigh, you guys already know... Still, I had to refuse it...

    "It's just that I can't..." I started, looking at the floor... "with football practice..."

    "Is everything alright, Chris?" she asked, with a small sweet smile. I mean, she was a sweet lady with gray hair, glasses, black skirt and a dark red pullover over a white t-shirt.

    "Yes... er... no... I mean... I mean..." I was trying to conceive a proper reply. And she could start from that `nothing' a good advice, with that serene voice of hers.

    "You know, Chris, music is all about knowing about feelings... so teaching music is all about getting to understand people." she simply put it that way.

    "Well... there's this guy... ahem, person, I know, you see..." I started – badly.

    "Oh, I see." she nodded at me with that understanding look. She didn't say anything else for me to feel secure to tell the rest... damn it, but busted, she knew it, damn it! But, that's alright... I guess... I hope... I mean, from all people she would be the last judging person in the world... sigh... so serene, with a so `understanding smile'... anyways...

    "And... and... sigh... okay, I like him... like a lot." I said.

    "Is he your friend? From school I assume." she replied her own question.

    "Yes, he is... I mean, this person... I mean, he is." I was trying to say. "But... but, that's the problem... if I say this to him, maybe he's not gonna like me anymore."

    "You know, Chris, if there's the slightest chance he likes you back... or...mmm... let's say he doesn't like you back the much you like him back... that you actually deserve, dear, would it feel better to let him know?" she asked and I only nodded. She continued "So, you should talk to him, tell him how you feel." she was saying.

    "If there's a star in the sky, maybe like a beloved one of ours, that we like but who passed away, who are looking at us from far away... if that star is called to this Earth again, to continue her mission, if she has a chance to shine and give one last sparkle, just one, again, and be gone after that, I'm positive they'll do her best to give her best last sparkle not to miss a chance." she finished.

    I had teary eyes and she pulled me into a hug.

    "Thank you, Mrs. Jenkins." I said as I practically marched out of the room with teary eyes but a smile on my face... maybe love is this happy-sad feeling *giggle* and I was thinking to myself.

    "That's it, I'm going to tell Peter how I feel!" I said to the early dark sky from late December, in that early evening, as the first stars were showing up.