Looking back on it, what I mostly remember was being mad. I can’t ever recall being angrier with them than I was that evening. Not that it was the first time they had ever done something like that, of course. But this time was going to be different.

I wasn’t going to just sit there and take it from them anymore.

This time was going to be different.

I had been hanging around the house that evening minding my own business when my parents informed me out of the blue I’d be spending the final month of my summer vacation in Vermont.

With the two of them no less!

I mean, come on, give me a break!

Here I was living in New York City where there were hip people and lots of cool things for someone like me to do. I had already made my plans for that final month of summer and they didn’t include spending time in Vermont watching the cows graze!

I mean, the whole thing pissed me off. Big time!

Not that it came as a surprise, of course. My parents had been running my life for as long as I could recall.

Ruining my life was more like it, I remember thinking!

“Brush your teeth, Nolan, and make sure to floss them too.”

“Don’t forget to take out the trash, Nolan.”

“Wash behind your ears, Nolan.”

“We’re spending next Sunday with Grandma, Nolan.”

I mean, for crying out loud, I was 16 years old, not some 10 year old doofus! But they still insisted on making decisions for the three of us like I didn’t even exist.

By then it was obvious nothing would ever change unless I put my foot down.

Right here! Right now!

What is it with adults?

Why are they totally clueless when it comes to knowing what kids like to do? Do they think we’re incapable of making decisions for ourselves? If she could have, I swear my mother would have gone to school with me every day back then just so she could decide what I should have for lunch.

I was tired of it. Why did they get to make all the decisions?

It was bad enough I didn’t want to go to Vermont. I mean, give me a break, who would? What made it even worse was being treated as some kind of afterthought. But now here Mom was, prattling on about how grateful I should be for the decision they had already made.

For Christ’s sake, the two of them actually wanted me to thank them for deciding how my summer should end!

Good luck with that, Mom and Dad, I said to myself. It’ll be a cold day in hell before that ever happens. This time you’ve gone too far, you fucking retards. There is no way I'm going to put up with this kind of shit any more.

“No, Mom, you’re absolutely right,” I suddenly said, interrupting her abruptly.

“I don’t appreciate everything you and Dad do for me,” I added, trying not to let on just how nervous I was.

I mean, the truth is, I had never really challenged my parents like that before. But, if I was going to be punished for letting them know how I felt about it, I might as well go all the way.

“To tell you the truth, it annoys the hell out of me,” I added. “Why do we have to go to Vermont? I don’t know anyone there. There’s nothing cool for someone like me to do in Vermont. It’s a gazillion miles from New York. And, besides, I pretty much already know I hate the smell of cow shit. I don’t want to go!”

“If you and Dad want to go to Vermont, fine,” I added, “no problem. But I want to stay in the city, preferably by myself, but at one of those stupid camps you sent me to last summer if necessary.”

Like most parents, mine weren’t so easily persuaded. In fact, it was quickly apparent nothing I said would ever convince them to let me stay in New York by myself.

I could also tell by the look on her face my mother wasn’t at all amused by my little rebellion. If looks could kill, I would have been dead right about then. But instead she took a deep breath before finally responding.

“I know you’re going through some kind of teenage phase, Nolan, so I’ll try to take everything you say with the appropriate grain of salt. I’m sorry you feel we don’t include you when we make decisions, but you’ll appreciate everything we did for you once you’re grown up. In the meantime, try to have a more positive attitude, sweetie.”

Sweetie! God damn it. There it was again, her ultimate put down. She had been calling me sweetie for as long as I could remember and I was just about to let her know how I felt about that when she turned and looked away, letting me know she wasn’t interested in discussing the subject any further.

“You’ll have fun, Nolan,” my Dad said, trying to reassure me. “We’re going to stay at a farm, not a hotel. Think about how exciting that’ll be. We can go camping and swimming and hiking. There’ll be lots of terrific things to do. You’ll have a fun time if you just adjust that attitude of yours and look on the bright side of things.”

So there you have it. As usual, everything was my fault. I had a lousy attitude. Both of them were completely blameless.

I couldn’t take it anymore! I wanted to scream. And to my surprise, that’s exactly what I did.

“No,” I screamed as loud as I could. “I won’t have a fun time, Dad. You can’t order me to have a fun time like you order pizza from Giovanni’s down the street. Maybe you’ll have a fun time, Dad. Maybe Mom will have a fun time too. But only I get to decide whether I’m having a fun time, and I already know I won’t if I have to spend it in fucking Vermont with the two of you.”

Later on I realized I should have never used the f word, of course. I had never dropped that on them before, but I was upset at the time and I wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

“So no,” I continued, putting my foot down. “The answer is absolutely not. There is no way in hell I’m going to spend a month of my life in Vermont. I just won’t do it and that’s final. You and Mom are just going to have to get used to it.”

I was wrong about that, of course.

“Nolan, if you say another word, you’ll be grounded for life,” my mother promptly responded, glaring at me furiously. “And I mean it! And I never want to hear the f word from you again either.”

“Well, there you have it, son,” my Dad chimed in, smiling at me. “You can’t fight City Hall.”

My Dad used to say lots of stupid things like that back then. He was into politics big time and wanted me to be too when I grew up. But for the moment he and Mom were content with squashing me like a bug. My biggest effort at rebellion to date had just been summarily dismissed.

I remember being annoyed on the drive up to Vermont, incredibly annoyed. Everything about it annoyed me.

The fact that my Mom hadn’t let me take my laptop or most of the rest of my stuff on vacation meant there was nothing to do on the drive up except stare out the window. That annoyed me.

The fact that my parents insisted on prattling on about the latest in-fighting in Albany annoyed me. Everyone knew those bozos could never agree on anything, especially now that the Governor was gearing up to run for President again. I couldn’t believe my Dad was stupid enough to think the Governor had a real chance at the nomination.

No way that was ever going to happen, I said to myself, so why even waste time talking about it like it was some kind of real possibility.

And then, when they were finished with Albany, they immediately turned to the latest news out of Washington. How the war was going. What all the latest developments from the battlefield meant. How soon the troops would be coming home.

Not very soon, I wanted to scream. So why don’t the two of you just stop talking about all that shit!

But they droned on and on about it endlessly, if anything more clueless than ever; and that annoyed me.

The fact Dad never exceeded the speed limit on the Thruway annoyed me as well because I knew it meant it would take forever to get to Vermont. Not only did it annoy me, it pissed me off as well. Big time! I had gotten my license a couple of months earlier and had asked Dad repeatedly to let me do some of the driving. But he just kept putting me off.

“There’s too much traffic driving much too fast down here around the city” soon became “maybe later when we get past Albany” and eventually ended up where I knew it would all along: “I’ll let you do some of the driving when we get to Vermont.”

But he didn’t, of course. To him, I was still just some immature little kid who would get us all killed if I was ever allowed behind the wheel.

By that time, of course, I probably would have since a twenty car pileup on the Thruway looked a hell of a lot more inviting than Vermont

I thought being cooped up in the car would be the worst of it. So even though I already hated Vermont, I was glad when we finally arrived and I could get out and stretch my legs. But then I took a look at the place we were staying at and wanted to hurl big time.

It was this old farmhouse that was falling apart and looked like it hadn’t been painted in at least a gazillion years. It didn’t look anything like the brochure my parents had shown me. So there we were, stuck in Vermont, staying in a shack that any self-respecting housing inspector who wasn’t brain dead or on the take would have condemned long ago.

I mean, give me a break!

Not knowing what else to do, I followed my parents into the place to get the keys to the room I’d be staying in. The two of them had decided to rent one room for themselves and another for me, something they justified as an effort to respect my privacy.

What a joke! I knew exactly why Dad wanted me in another room. I couldn’t believe he thought I was so totally clueless.

But that’s when the real problems started. When we went to check in, it turned out I didn’t have a room to stay in after all. The room they thought they’d reserved wasn’t available.

“I’m really terribly sorry,” the woman behind the front desk explained to my parents. “For some reason I thought you just wanted a single room for the three of you. I didn’t know you wanted a separate room for your son.”

Screw you, Dad, I thought to myself, laughing. Because you sure ain’t going to be screwing Mom for the next month if I have to share a room with the two of you!

“That’s okay, Mam,” I interjected quickly. “I’m sure my parents will let me take a bus back to New York. It isn’t really a problem at all,” I added, glaring at the two of them.

“Well that’s very nice of you to volunteer to go back to New York,” the woman replied, smiling at me as if I had just said something mildly amusing. “But it was my mistake, not yours or your parents. And I don’t think we have to do anything drastic like sending you back to New York.”

Then, turning to my parents, she suggested another solution.

“Even though all of our rooms are booked up, I’m going to let your son have Joshua’s room. It’s on the very top floor. Joshua is my son and I’m sure he won’t mind giving up his room for the next month. He’s use to camping out during the summer so it won’t be a problem at all.”

“Oh, my, I’m not sure we should impose on you like that,” my Mom replied. “I don’t want your son to have to give up his room over an honest mistake.”

“It won’t be a problem at all,” the women reassured my Mom and Dad once again. “As I said, Joshua likes camping out. I think he actually prefers it because it can get a little stuffy at times in that room late in the summer. As you know, we don’t have any air conditioning here on the farm. But there’s a window you can open so it shouldn’t be too bad in the evenings.”

Great, I remember thinking to myself. I’m going to have to sleep in some other kid’s bed. On the top floor of a farmhouse that doesn’t have any air conditioning. Listening to some dumb animals make weird noises all night long because the window is open. And sweating to death in the process!

I remember sighing.

This is going to be absolutely the worst thing that ever happened to me. Please, God, let me die right now, I pleaded.

“Can I go for a walk,” I finally asked, totally disgusted with everything I was hearing? “I need to stretch my legs after being cooped up in the car all that time. I thought I would take a walk and check this place out.”

“Sure,” my Mom responded. “Just don’t go too far and get lost, sweetie.”

Sweetie!

I considered strangling her right on the spot, but I was too tired from the trip to do it just then. It would have to wait for a more opportune moment, I decided, but soon. I had to kill the bitch soon, very soon.

While my parents finished up with the paperwork, I headed off down a hill that led away from the farmhouse. I didn’t know where it would take me exactly, but I knew it led away from that place and I wanted to get as far away from that farmhouse as I could right about then.

At the bottom of the hill I spied a trail that led into the woods and it wasn’t long before I was completely engulfed by the trees and the shade. Together, they made everything cooler.

I must have walked for twenty minutes or more. By then the trail was beginning to disappear and I started worrying about getting lost. I was about to turn around and go back when the afternoon silence was suddenly interrupted by what seemed like a very big splash.

Glancing around, I noticed what looked like an even less well traveled path just beyond some bushes off to my right. I pushed through the bushes and continued on for a little ways until I came to a ledge. Standing there, I took a good look around.

Down below the trail I could see a lake with a gigantic rock jutting out of the water. It looked really cool and refreshing after that long drive up from the city, and I was debating whether I should go down to the lake when I noticed some kind of movement in the water just beyond the rock.

Silently, I hid behind a tree close to the edge and took a closer look. As my eyes focused in, I saw a boy pull himself out of the water, then scamper over to his towel on the rock. When he finished drying himself off, he stretched out on the towel, face down, and started sunning himself.

As best I could tell, the kid was about my age although he was definitely more muscular than me. But the most surprising thing of all was that he wasn’t wearing a swimsuit. He was just lying there, face down, totally naked, giving me a perfect view of his butt!

Oh my, this is my lucky day. Thank you, God!

As I stood there gazing at him, I could feel myself becoming more and more aroused. But something about it felt different this time. I mean, yeah, sure, I could feel the blood rushing toward my groin and everything going hard, just like when I stared at the pictures I found on the internet or the fitness magazines at the kiosk down the street from our place.

But I seemed to be having trouble breathing and now my chest felt tight, really tight. That had never happened before and I could feel my hands getting sweaty too. Some of the sensations were familiar enough, but others were new and the whole thing seemed different somehow. And then, without even thinking about it, I knew what it was.

This must be lust, I remember saying to myself, standing there and staring down at the kid. I mean, yeah, sure, a picture can arouse you, but you know it’s just an image on the screen or on whatever piece of paper you’re looking at. You know it isn’t for real. It’s just a way of getting the blood flowing in order to produce the reaction you know will bring on the pleasure you want to experience. But this was different, a lot different. I was staring at a real boy, someone I wanted to do stuff with for real, not just in my imagination.

In fact, I wanted to do stuff with that boy really badly by then. And not just with him. To him. No doubt about it. I was lusting after that boy! I remember standing there forever just staring at him, wondering who he was and whether he had ever lusted for someone like I was lusting for him. Whoever he was, he was totally hot and I found myself becoming more and more aroused and excited the longer I stood there behind the tree staring at him.

I remember reaching into my trousers and starting to play with myself.

Jesus, who knew Vermont would have tourist attractions like this? Maybe this isn’t going to be so bad after all.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, but by then I didn’t really care anymore. It’s not like I had planned it this way or that my reaction came as a big surprise. The truth is I had known I liked boys ever since I was twelve years old.

Of course, that scared the shit out of me back then because there was no way I wanted to be some pervert homo. I had heard about those kinds of guys, pansies and queers who behaved like girls and liked molesting boys my age.

No way was I into that shit!

So I had done everything I could to cure myself back then. Every night I would get down on my knees and pray to God to make me be like the rest of the boys at school. With the help of my Mom and her friends, I had gone on a gazillion dates with girls. I even tried to play sports, but had to give that up pretty quickly when it turned out I was really bad at anything that involved a ball. I even tried ignoring the whole thing, telling myself it was just some kind of phase I was going through.

But nothing I did worked and my fascination with boys kept getting stronger and stronger with each passing year.

So yeah, I already knew I was a twisted sicko and was going to burn in hell forever because of it. I remember being pissed off at God big time for making me such a pervert. And then, when I finally realized there was nothing I could do about it, I just stopped thinking about God at all. Who needed a god so cruel like that?

So that was it. It was just something I was going to have to live with and keep to myself forever. Because there was no way in hell I wanted anyone to know I was one of those faggots. Not my parents or my classmates or anyone else either. And especially not the other boys I went to school with because I knew what they would do to me if they ever found out about it.

To be honest, it made life kind of lonely not having any real friends. The girls didn’t interest me, of course, so it was easy enough to ignore them. But it would have been nice to have some friends among the guys. Maybe even a special friend. But I knew I could never make friends with any of the guys. I didn’t want them to know the truth about me.

Oh, yeah, sure, occasionally I would try to catch a glance of some of them at school when we showered after gym class together. But I gave that up quickly enough when they caught one of the younger kids staring at them and started calling him a faggot. That kid’s life was totally over in a flash and I didn’t want the same thing happening to me.

Not that it helped entirely, of course. They didn’t like kids like me that didn’t fit in and it wasn’t long before rumors began to fly. Marcus made sure of that. I did my best to ignore them, but they hurt. They really did because I knew they were true no matter how much I denied it to them.

So the truth is I had never really seen someone my age totally naked before. And that being the case, I was pretty determined to enjoy watching this hot little cutie, whoever he was.

And I did, for what seemed like an eternity to me.

Eventually the boy got up and dove off the rock into the water. He was obviously having a good time swimming that afternoon and I remember being jealous of him for being so normal, not a pervert like me. Later, he climbed out of the water again and began pulling on his clothes.

I figured I better head back to the farm so he wouldn’t know I had been spying on him.