Date: Mon, 4 Aug 2014 14:46:35 -0400
From: Ronyx <ronyx@woh.rr.com>
Subject: Closing the Barn Door   Chapter 1

To Nifty: This is a new story I'm submitting for your consideration. Please
post it in the gay male/high school section. Thanks for everything you do!
Ronyx


The following is a work of fiction. Any similarities to anyone are purely
coincidental. The story is intended for a mature audience. It may contain
profanity and references to gay sex. If this offends you, please leave and
find something more suitable to read. The author maintains all rights to
the story. Do not copy or use without written permission. Write
ronyx@themustardjar.com with your comments. Ronyx is a prolific Nifty
author. Visit my personal website at www.themustardjar.com for more
stories.

Ronyx is a prolific Nifty author. I have previously posted the stories:
Birds Don't Sing Before a Storm, A Delicate Situation, Reggie's Journal,
It's Not Easy Being a Tree and Door Number Three, to name just a few. Visit
my website: www.themustardjar.com for other enjoyable stories.

And as always, be sure to donate to the Nifty Archives. I thank them for
hosting my stories to a worldwide audience.


Closing the Barn Door Chapter 1


It was the first day of school, and the hallways were filled with the
raucous laughter of students greeting each other for the first time since
June. Growing up in Farmersville didn't offer many social activities other
than a local theater. Only then, it had one screen that featured the latest
top box office hit. Most were for an older audience since science fiction
and horror movies didn't tend to draw much attendance beyond the opening
night. When a feature did appeal to the younger generation, the elderly
residents would complain about those `damn kids' wandering the streets
while waiting for the Victory Theater to open.

A small group of boys had congregated in the middle of the hallway. They
were comparing schedules to see if they shared any classes together. Since
the school was small, they had been together since kindergarten. They took
the same classes and shared the same teachers. However, their periods might
vary occasionally.

Lucas Prescott grabbed Ned Peters schedule from his hand. "Let me see if we
got English class together. Shit," he hissed after examining it and handing
it back to Ned. "I got Yarber third period. You have her fourth."

Robbie Kincaid exclaimed excitedly, "I got Yarber third period."

Lucas cast him an angry glance and exclaimed, "Did anyone ask you,
Shithead?"

Robbie took a step back and replied shyly, "No, Lucas."

Lucas was the largest of the boys. He had been since third grade when he
had a growth spurt. He continued to grow, and he was now almost twice the
size of the others gathered around him.

Lucas was also the undisputed leader of the group. The others were devoted
followers who did whatever Lucas told them to do. Many had spent hours of
detention over the past years carrying out Lucas's pranks. Most were just
childish games, but several had been cruel. For example, in the fifth
grade, they had stolen Jimmy Ellison's clothes from his gym locker and hid
them from him. He had to wear the only spare shorts Coach Wallace had on
hand that day- a pink floral pair of girl's Bermuda shorts. He was
ridiculed so much that day that he didn't return to school for four
days. For the rest of the year, Lucas and the other boys kidded him
unmercifully.

Lucas was also the kind of boy who was very protective of his friends. He
valued loyalty, and friendship was generously rewarded. Last year as
freshmen, it was traditional for the upperclassmen to try to intimidate the
underclassmen. Being friends with Lucas prevented the abuse that was
generally meted out. Even seniors feared Lucas's wrath when he became
upset. However, if things went his way, he was generally friendly toward
others.

Ned looked up at Lucas and asked, "When you got art class?" Ned was the
smallest boy in the group. Lucas, at 6'2" and 240 pounds, towered over the
5'4" smaller boy. Many times students would laugh when they saw them
together because there was such a contrast in their appearance. Ned was
often referred to as Lucas's puppy because he trailed behind him and
readily obeyed any order that Lucas barked at him.

Lucas looked at his schedule. "I got Fitzpatrick fourth?" He looked down at
Ned. "What about you?"

Ned grinned and replied. "I got her fourth."

"Good," exclaimed Lucas. "You can do my work for me."

"Yeah, sure thing," grinned Ned. If Lucas asked him to jump off the roof,
he would do it.

Lucas grabbed Ned and Rob around the shoulders and pulled them into a
huddle. He looked around to make sure no one could hear him. He asked
softly, "Have you guys heard the latest news?" Both boys shook their head.

He looked around again. "Neil is a fag."

"No way," responded Ned as he shook his head. "That can't be."

Lucas pulled them into a tighter huddle as he looked over Rob's
shoulder. "No shit," he said excitedly. "Last week, Neil tried to suck
Owen's dick out at the old Cate's barn."

Rob asked excitedly, "You mean that old dilapidated barn on the south side
of town? What were they doing out there?"

Lucas replied, "Owen said him and Neil rode their bikes out there, and they
were playing around in the hayloft."

Rob nodded his head and asked, "Yeah, what happened?"

"Owen said they got to wrestling, and Neil started grabbing at his dick,"
replied Lucas as he looked around the hall to make sure no one had
approached.

Ned grabbed the front of his pants and adjusted them. Fortunately, Lucas
didn't notice. He asked, "What happened then?"

"You won't believe this," replied Lucas. "Neil tried to reach his hand into
Owen's pants, and asked him if he wanted him to suck his dick."

Rob asked excitedly, "What did Owen say?"

Lucas pushed Rob against the locker. "What the fuck did you think he said,"
he responded angrily as he looked down at the smaller boy. "Of course, he
told him to go fuck himself." He gave the boy another angry look. "Isn't
that what you would have done?"

Rob gulped, looked down at the ground and mumbled, "Yeah, sure." He looked
up at Lucas. "Yeah. I would have kicked him in his nuts."

"Me, too," offered Ned. "Right in his nuts."

"Good," replied Lucas as he patted the two boys on the back and warned,
"But you better stay away from Neil from now on. He's a fag, and we don't
like his kind around here." He looked at the boys and asked, "Right?"

"Yeah," Ned and Rob answered in unison as they nodded their heads.

Rob then added, "No fags around here."

"Right," replied Lucas as he patted Rob on the back. "Now we better git to
class or we'll be late." The three boys started strolling down the
hall. Lucas was in the middle as he towered over the two smaller boys.

* * * * * * *

"Everyone get out of bed!" shouted Mrs. Michaels down the narrow
hallway. "You don't want to miss the bus the first day of school."

Neil threw the covers over his head and let out a low groan. He could hear
Brett, his younger brother, giggling as he jumped out of bed on the other
side of the room.

"Better get up, Sleepy Head," warned Brett, "Or Mommy will come in and get
you up."

"Right," grumbled Neil. His mother was known to enter the room with the
broom and lightly swing at anyone who ignored her shouts. He had been
whacked several times over the years. Brett learned his lesson after the
first time two years ago, and since then he jumps out of bed as soon as he
hears his mother's voice.

Neil sat on the side of the bed and attempted to awaken himself. Brett was
already dressed and sitting on the side of his bed lacing up his
sneakers. Neil looked over and said, "You're the only person who is glad to
be going back to school."

Brett stood and giggled. At eight, he still had freckles covering his
cheeks. His brown hair was cut in a bowl shape, and Neil couldn't help but
laugh. Brett had protested the night before when their mother insisted on
cutting his hair. She used scissors, and she would cut around the edges
making a straight line around the back. It did look like she had put a bowl
on Brett's head when she cut his hair.

Neil had been able to avoid the ritual this year. In the past, he always
went to school the first day with the same cut. This year, however, he
managed to go into the bathroom a week earlier and attempt to trim his own
hair. The final result didn't look too bad. His mother told him he left too
much hair flowing down across his face, but he insisted that was the way he
wanted to wear it this year. When she went to her knitting bag to get the
scissors, he ran out the back door, got on his bike and rode around for two
hours. When he returned, she had forgotten about cutting his hair.

He smiled when Brett went over to the mirror and attempted to fluff it out
so it wouldn't look so straight. However, he had straight blonde hair,
unlike Neil's curly brown hair. "It won't do no good," laughed
Neil. "You're still going to look like the boy on the paint can."

Brett frowned and replied, "I know. The other kids are going to tease me."
He ran his hands through his hair for the last time, looked in the mirror,
sighed and left the room.

Neil sat on the side of the bed and ran his hands over his face. He mumbled
to himself, "I'd rather jump off Gulliver's Cliff than go to school today."
In fact, just a few days earlier he had gone to Gulliver's Cliff to jump
off. He stood on the side for about fifteen minutes attempting to get up
the courage to take a final leap, but he chickened out. Instead, he wiped
the tears from his face and rode his bike back home. Since then, he had
considered riding his bike there again, but he knew he was too afraid to do
what he really wanted to do.

"Oh, God," he moaned as he put his head in his hands. He knew that he would
have to go back to school someday and face his friends. It was either that,
or take a leap off Gulliver's Cliff. As he sat with his face buried in his
hands, he decided that going to the cliff might be easier than facing Owen
again.

It had been a little over a week when he and Owen rode their bikes out to
the old Cate's farm. It was a lazy Thursday morning, and they were both
bored. It was Owen who suggested that they go for a bike ride.

As they headed down Engle Mill Road, they approached the old barn. Neil
followed Owen down the narrow path leading to the dilapidated building. The
farmhouse had burned down years ago, before either boy was even born. All
that remained of the barn was the old, withered sides and a rusty
silo. Stacks of musty hay were still stored inside.

Neil got off his bike and followed Owen toward the barn. Owen had turned
and said, "I wonder if there is any hoot owls in the rafters?" They entered
and walked across the rickety floors as they looked upward to see if they
could see or hear any old owls.

They spent about ten minutes looking around the old barn. They made up
tales about what stories the dilapidated building might tell if it could
talk. They envisioned a time when hogs and cattle resided inside. Owen
picked up a handful of hay and tossed it out a door. "Here piggies," he
giggled as he picked up another armload and threw it. "Make yourselves fat
so we can eat you for dinner."

Neil stood back and roared with laughter. He and Owen had been best friends
since before they could remember. They had attended school together and had
spent many hours working on homework assignments.

They were so used to sleepovers at each other's homes that their mothers
considered them brothers and just another mouth to feed. They hunted
mushrooms and wild berries together in the fields outside of town. Their
favorite adventure was skinny dipping on a hot summer day in the Possum
Creek just about two miles away. It was not uncommon to find a dozen naked
boys swimming in the creek and swinging from a rope that was attached to a
large elm tree. Lucas had climbed it when they were in the fifth grade and
knotted the rope to a large branch over the creek. That rope had endured
thousands of squealing boys over the years as they swung out from the bank
and dropped into the water.

It was Owen who initiated the actions that were to change Neil's life
forever. He had tossed an armload of hay at Neil, and then he jumped on top
of him and pinned him into a mound of hay.

He giggled and demanded, "Squeal like a piggy!" As he did, he ground his
lower body against Neil. They squirmed and fidgeted for several moments as
both of them grew hard.

Suddenly, Owen jumped up and pulled down his pants. His erection was only
inches from Neil's face. Seeing each other hard wasn't unusual. All the
boys at one time or another walked the banks of the creek swinging an
erection. It had become a ritual a few years earlier to note when a boy
first grew pubic hairs. Naturally, Lucas was the first to boast of such an
accomplishment. However, Neil had bragging rights a few months
later. Eventually, all the boys developed a large tuft of hair around their
cocks.

Owen swung his hips in front of Neil. As he did, his cock was only inches
from Neil's mouth. "Suck it, you slimy pig," giggled Owen. "You know you
want to."

Without thinking, Neil opened his mouth and sucked in a few inches. He
really wasn't aware he had done it. To him, it was still a part of the
game. Suddenly, Owen jumped back with an astonished look on his face. "Holy
shit!" he exclaimed as he pulled up his pants and buckled his belt. "Jesus
Christ, Neil! You were gonna do it! You were really going to suck my dick!"

"No!" protested Neil as his face reddened. "I was just playing around!"

Owen stared at his friend in disbelief. "No, you weren't," he replied. "You
put your mouth on my dick!"

Tears welled up inside Neil's eyes. He didn't know what to say. He had
started to suck Owen. And if Owen hadn't jumped away, he probably would
have continued. "No, honest," he cried. "I didn't mean it. We was just
playing."

Their eyes met, and Owen seemed to be reading his best friend's mind. He
then looked away and headed quickly from the barn. As he was getting on his
bike, Neil ran up and tried to stop him.

"Come on, Owen," pleaded Neil. "It was only a game. Don't tell the other
guys. Please?"

Owen pushed Neil's hand off his arm. "You're a homo, Neil. Stay away from
me." He then started to pedal quickly away. He didn't even look back as he
left his dejected friend standing outside the old, dilapidated barn.

Neil grabbed armloads of hay and began tossing them outside. He screamed
and shouted each time he hurled a load. After six bales, he fell exhausted
to the ground. His chest heaved as he attempted to catch his breath. He
didn't know what had happened. One minute he was playing with his best
friend. The next minute, he had gained an angry enemy. Worst of all, he
didn't know why he had done it.

He knew why, but he couldn't believe he had been so careless. He realized a
few years earlier that he wasn't like Owen, Lucas and the rest of their
friends. While they were developing an interest in girls, he wasn't. He
would laugh at their conversations about which girls they thought had the
biggest tits at school. He would also join in and playfully act as if he
was jerking off when Owen, Lucas or Rob talked about having sex for the
first time.

However, none of those things interested him. When they began joking about
queers, fags and homos a few years earlier, he knew what he was. However,
he was determined to keep it a secret. He could easily live a lie, at least
until he graduated from school.

Now, all that had changed. Owen knew his secret, and it wouldn't be long
until the others knew.

And it didn't take long. He stayed at home for almost a week, refusing to
leave his bedroom. None of his friends came by the house to see if anything
was the matter. In the past, if he had missed an afternoon baseball game,
Owen would be knocking on his door that evening asking where he had
been. "James pitched today," he would say, "and we lost. You should have
been there." It didn't matter what his excuse was. He had let his friends
down.

Now, he had no friends anymore. One week holed up in his room, and not one
person had called or stopped by. He knew the reason- Owen had told them
what happened. And now Lucas knew. Neil had no idea what he would do with
that information.

Lucas hated gays. He said it all the time. Guys never looked at another
guy's dick out at the creek. Once everyone had pubic hair, it was forbidden
anymore. If Lucas noticed another boy glance down at someone's erection, it
would set him off on a homophobic rant. "What you looking at his dick for?"
he would ask loudly. "You a queer or something? You want to suck a dick?"
He would then grab his and say, "Here! Suck this, Queer Boy." No one dared
to laugh. If they did, he would accuse them of being gay themselves.

"Neil, Honey," his mother hollered from the kitchen. "You had better
hurry. You'll miss breakfast, but you're not going to miss the bus the
first day of school."

Neil sighed, walked over to the mirror and looked at himself. He hated the
boy staring back. His hair was too curly, his nose was too narrow and acne
had won the war against ointments. The only person who called him cute was
his mother. She was obligated to say that. All mothers are. If everyone
looked at people the way a mother looks at her child, then there would be
no ugly people in the world.

Neil studied himself in the mirror, sighed and muttered, "I'm ugly."

His mother hollered again, "Honey, you better hurry! Brett and Emily are
heading out the door to catch the bus."

Neil walked over and picked up the green book bag off the floor beside his
bed. It was empty except for a few pencils, an eraser, ruler and
calculator. However, by the end of the school day, it would be filled with
books, workbooks, class syllabuses and homework assignments. He knew he
would be lugging it over his shoulder later in the day when he departed the
bus.

When he entered the kitchen, his mother handed him a warm biscuit and
pushed him gently out the door. "It's not my fault you missed breakfast,"
she hollered as he shuffled slowly down the lane to where his younger
siblings were eagerly awaiting the big yellow monster, as Brett called it.

Mrs. Michaels stood at the door and watched her older son walking slowly
away. She knew something was wrong, but she was unable to figure out what
was bothering Neil. A week ago, he had been a normal, happy teenager. Owen
and other boys would romp playfully through the house, and she would often
have to chastise them for their behavior. She really didn't mind. She knew
as a mother it was expected.

However, suddenly, Neil withdrew to his room and seemed to shut the world
out. None of his friends visited. When she inquired if something had
happened, Neil insisted that nothing was wrong.

She knew that teens have emotional swings. It was only a few years ago that
she was a girl. However, she became rebellious. She and her mother would
shout at each other for hours over things that now seemed childish. Neil,
though, never raised his voice. In fact, in the past week, she had hardly
heard him speak.

At first, she feared it was because he had no male role model at home. Boys
his age needed someone to look up to and emulate. She and his father,
Brian, separated after Brett was born. They divorced two years later. Brian
would stop by on the children's birthdays and at Christmas. However, for
reasons that they never shared with others, he didn't request joint
custody. Their relationship was amiable, and he was welcomed when he did
visit.

His problems couldn't be because he missed his father. Besides, her
brother, Jack, had become the surrogate father to her children. They adored
him, and his frequent visits were always welcomed. He and Neil were very
close, and she was confident that Jack was providing the fatherly affection
that she was afraid Neil might lack.

They had talked about Neil's behavior, but they decided to wait and see if
he was just experiencing a normal teenage adjustment into
adulthood. However, deep inside, she knew it was more than that. Whatever
was bothering Neil, was a problem that would need more than just a waiting
period. Her motherly instincts told her that.

She stepped out onto the porch and waved as the two younger children
turned, waved goodbye and bounded up the bus steps. Neil, however, trudged
up the steps and moved slowly to the back. He sat on the opposite side of
the bus and pressed his head against the window. His mother raised her
apron to her eyes and wiped away the tears falling down her cheek.

* * * * * *

The bus stopped at the elementary school first to let off the younger
children. After they departed, about thirty students still were seated
ahead of Neil. He knew them all. At one time, he considered them
friends. Now, he wasn't so sure.

As he got on the bus earlier, he had made no eye contact with anyone. He
held his head down and moved quickly to the back of the bus. He then rested
his head against the window and closed his eyes. Owen's home was two stops
away. They had ridden side by side to and from school since
kindergarten. Today, though, when the bus stopped for Owen and his little
brother, Neil felt the bus shake as they made their way to the back. Any
other morning, Owen would have plopped into the seat beside Neil and
grumbled about it being too early for school to start. Today, however, he
took a seat in the middle of the bus beside Maggie Rumsfeld, another member
of their class, In the past, Owen complained because he thought Maggie had
a crush on him, and he was constantly avoiding her at school. Neil realized
as he looked at the back of Owen's blond head that his resentment must be
deep for him to sit with someone he despised rather than his former best
friend.

A couple of the girls aboard the bus looked back, giggled and then turned
back and began talking animatedly. He wondered if they knew. Since he
hadn't spoken to anyone at school since the incident inside the barn, he
didn't know how vast the rumors had spread. They normally grew quickly,
becoming more elaborate each time they were related. By now, he was
probably a serial rapist who had taken Owen hostage at gunpoint and raped
him repeatedly until he was unconscious. However, Owen seemed as silent as
he was. From what he could tell, he had completely ignored Maggie, and he
didn't talk to anyone else. Mac Dorman, another close friend, had attempted
to talk to Owen, but it didn't seem like they said very much.

He was jolted from his reverie when he heard a sweet voice say, "How was
your summer, Neil?" He looked over at Sammy Gibson. Her real name was
Samantha, but in the fifth grade she started asking everyone to call her
Sammy. Teachers, however, refused, and continued to call her Samantha.

He had had his eyes closed when she boarded the bus, and he didn't realize
she had sat down opposite him. He attempted a smile and replied, "It was
okay." He frowned when she rose from her seat and sat down beside him.

"It doesn't sound like it," she said as he continued to stare out the
window.

He turned and asked defensively, "What is that supposed to mean?" He was
convinced she was referring to the rumors spreading around his friends.

She seemed startled at first by his rudeness. It wasn't in Neil's nature to
become upset so easily. Normally, he was a likeable young man who treated
others with respect and courtesy. That was one of the things that attracted
her to him.

She had never told anyone, but she had had a secret crush on Neil since the
seventh grade. They had sat beside one another in three classes that year,
and they were frequent partners in class assignments. Being extremely shy,
she could never tell Neil how she felt. She was too afraid of being
rejected.

After all, Neil was one of the cutest boys in their class. However, he
stood in the background as Lucas and the other boys demanded all the
attention. Sammy loved his dark brown eyes and light brown wavy hair that
hung down over his forehead. Strands would occasionally fall over his eyes
when he would look down to read, and she would smile each time he would
flick the troublesome hairs from his head.

He wasn't muscular or athletic like many of the other boys. However, he
wasn't effeminate like a few that others tormented. He was just Neil
Michaels. Cute, shy, polite and charming Neil Michaels.

Today, however, he seemed changed. She smiled nervously and replied, "You
just said your summer was okay. It sounded like you didn't have much fun."

"Oh," responded Neil with regret. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."

Sammy smiled when Neil reached up and flicked back as stray lock of hair
that had fallen across his forehead. She asked, "Are you ready to return to
school then?"

Neil wanted to laugh loudly, but refrained. "If only Sammy knew that this
was going to be one of the worst days of my life," he thought to
himself. "It's school," he responded. "Aren't we supposed to like hate it
or something?"

Sammy giggled and replied, "I think it is located on page five of the
Student's Handbook they gave us last year."

"You mean you read that stupid book?" Neil joked. For a brief moment, he
had forgotten what soon awaited.

"Not really," she replied. "But it does make a good paper weight."

"Yeah," laughed Neil. "I guess it does."

Sammy glanced quickly at Neil when she saw Owen turn and look angrily at
him. She thought it was strange when she got on the bus and noticed that
they weren't seated together. For nine years, she had seen them sitting
side by side. Today, eight rows of seats separated them.

She looked over at Neil and asked, "Is something wrong with Owen? You guys
aren't together."

Neil shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I don't know." There was no use
to say anything more. By the end of the day, Sammy would know all about the
vile thing he had done to Owen in the barn on Engle Mill Road.

The bus stopped in front of the school. He watched as Owen jumped from his
seat and hurried off the bus. As he headed toward the building with Sammy
walking beside him, he sensed that his safe life would never be the same.

* * * * * *

This story is also updated weekly at my website: www.themustardjar.com

Send comments to: ronyx@themustardjar.com