The Foxwood Chronicles
By
FreeThinker
The
following may
contain scenes of sexual activity between underage males. If you feel
you may
be offended by reading this or that it may be illegal for you to read
this in
your jurisdiction, please proceed no further. The author neither
condones nor
advocates the violation of any laws. Because the story begins in 1982,
the
characters portrayed herein may engage in behavior which could be
considered
unsafe or unwise, if not illegal. The author neither condones nor
advocates
unsafe or unwise behavior. The author, however, cheerfully condones and
advocates
exercising your imagination and your ability to think critically and
rationally. Please do not copy or post this without the author’s
permission.
If
you would like to read other
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Be
good. If you can’t be good, at least be interesting.
The
Foxwood Chronicles
Chapter
Four
Another
Brick in the Wall
All
in all it’s just another brick in the wall.
All in all
you’re just another brick in the wall.
Pink
Floyd, “Another Brick in the Wall,” The Wall.
Copyright
1979, Roger Waters Music Overseas, LTD.
“Well,
how’s our new Foxwoodian feeling this fine morning? All
bright eyed and bushy-tailed?”
The
last person Evan wanted to see Sunday morning as he stumbled
down to the breakfast nook was his grandmother’s neighbor. His first
instinct
was to reply, “No; actually my tail is feeling pretty God-damned empty
right
now.” That response, however, would probably not be received well, so
he said,
instead, “I’ll be OK after my first cup of coffee.”
Grant
and his wife both raised their
eyebrows.
“Dear,”
said Rosemary, “you’re not old
enough to be drinking coffee yet. You should have a nice cold glass of
orange
juice! That will make you feel just right! Here you go! Now, drink up!”
Evan’s
grandmother suppressed her
chuckles as Evan gave Rosemary a sideways glance indicating he wasn’t
entirely
convinced of her sanity.
“You
look like quite the young
gentleman there, Evan,” his grandmother said. “That’s a smart-looking
tie.”
“Oh,
yes!” Rosemary gushed as Evan
pulled his chair out and sat. “He’s quite a handsome young man!”
Evan
took a gulp of OJ and, as he set
the glass down, muttered, “They didn’t send all my clothes, Nana. The
only
jacket I have is my school blazer. I can’t wear that. It’s got the
“Oh,
don’t worry about that, dear. You
should be proud of where you went to school.”
Evan
cringed at her use of the past
tense and, as she set a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast before him,
smiled
reluctantly, chalking it up as just another brick in the wall. Grant
and
Rosemary continued their small talk with Evan as he tried to eat,
seeking to
make him feel welcome in his new town. He described his foray into the
wilds of
downtown Foxwood and his first contact with Foxwoodius Adolescencius,
leaving
out the insults and jeers.
“There!”
Rosemary gushed. “You see?
You’ll be one of them in no time. Isn’t it amazing how resilient young
people
are? You put a boy in a strange city where he knows no one and within
five
minutes, he has five new best friends! And, just wait ‘til we get you
to the
club this afternoon for brunch! You’ll have a dozen tennis partners
before we
leave!”
Evan
finished the last of his bacon
and excused himself to retrieve his blazer from his room. In the
solitude of
his room, he gazed at himself in the mirror and critically examined his
hair.
It was perfect, parted in the middle, feathered back along the sides.
He knew
he was beautiful. Perhaps that was why he had been the butt of so many
comments
the night before. Was he really going to have to let himself go to stay
alive
here? He sighed and slipped his blazer on.
The
ride the three blocks to church
was uneventful. The Sinclairs kept up their running dialogue of the
glories of
teen life in Foxwood as Evan’s grandmother smiled sweetly the entire
way,
enjoying her grandson’s discomfort. Grant dropped them off at the front
and as
Evan opened the door for Rosemary and his grandmother, he noticed that
several
elderly people were eying him critically as they stood on the lawn and
the
front steps of the Foxwood Congregational Church. He felt he was on
display.
This was not an unknown feeling, but usually he enjoyed it, being the
center of
attention and the object of admiring looks. This morning, however, the
examinations,
he could tell, were critical and searching, inspecting the new boy from
His
grandmother stopped to speak to
several elderly ladies and introduce Evan. Naturally, they all were
exceedingly
polite, even as Evan could see they were minutely examining him for
even the
slightest fault about which to gossip later in the social hall. He was
as
correct as he could possibly be, using every acting skill that he had
absorbed
from fourteen years of living among “the beautiful people” of
By
the time they were seated in their
pew, Grant had joined them, nodding and smiling to people all over the
congregation.
Evan took the time to look around himself. Not far in front of them and
on the
left side of the congregation sat the dark haired kid he had seen the
previous
night with the lawn mower. His shaggy dark hair was combed down over
his
forehead and across his ears. There was another boy beside him, a
younger twin,
yawning and fidgeting in the pew. Behind them, several pews back, was
the dirty
blond, his hair parted in the middle and curling down beneath his ears.
Evan
couldn’t help but think he looked like Luke Skywalker. Evan had always
thought
Mark Hamill was hot and had almost made a fool of himself at a party in
Evan
looked to the front and saw the
choir enter the sanctuary and he felt a sudden sense of curiosity.
Seated in
the front pew on the extreme left, was the strange boy he had seen the
previous
night sitting in front of the church, the one who had been staring off
into
space. He seemed to be doing the same thing, his face aimed up at the
rose
window above the sanctuary. Adam, (was that what the younger boy had
called
him?), seemed transfixed by the light shining through the stained
glass. The
boy’s dark blond hair was not as wild as it had been the night before;
it
seemed to be combed over to the side, yet it still hung down almost to
the
collar of his white shirt. The other boy, the one who had called to
him, was
seated beside him, his darker hair also a bit more organized.
The
music suddenly began and the
congregation stood. Evan did so, as well, and tried to remember,
unsuccessfully, the last time he had been in a church.
It
was about half an hour into the
service, (yes, his watch was not incorrect; it had been only half an
hour),
when the minister stood at the pulpit and, looking out at the
congregation,
declared, “Friends, let us praise the Lord by living as he asks us to.
Let us
praise the Lord by loving as he asks us to. Let us praise the Lord by
accepting
our neighbors as he asks us to. Let us live as members of the family of
Christ,
loving and caring for each other as the Lord asks us to.”
Evan
looked around and saw only a few
people seeming to nod off. The father sitting next to “Luke Skywalker”
seemed
to scowl at the pastor’s words. However, his grandmother and the
Sinclairs were
listening with rapt attention.
“There
are some today who seem to
think we should turn our backs on those whom we see as sinners, those
with whom
we disagree, those who don’t fit into our convenient definitions of
good and
bad, acceptable and unacceptable. I wonder if Jesus would turn his back
on
those the majority felt were unclean or unpleasant or unacceptable ,
those who
were different.”
Evan
liked this man. He did not fit
his image of a hell-fire and brimstone preacher warning of eternal
damnation.
This was someone who made him feel good. It was quite unexpected.
When
the service ended with the final
hymn and the congregation was filing out, Grant commented from behind
Evan and
his grandmother, “What an uplifting sermon. I’m glad we hired this
pastor. It’s
sure nice to feel good when you leave, isn’t it, Dorothy?”
“It
certainly is, Grant. I think he’s
quite inspirational. What do you think, Evan?”
However,
before Evan could reply,
“Luke Skywalker’s” family was entering the aisle and the scowler
snorted.
“Just
another damn liberal wanting to
make excuses for everybody. Hell, nobody believes in right and wrong
anymore.”
“George,”
said Evan’s grandmother as
they came to door, “you seem awfully grouchy for an insurance salesman,
this
morning.”
The
shaggy blond behind him, as well
as the lady beside him, were obviously embarrassed. The boy, as well as
a
younger boy who looked very similar to him, both glanced at Evan, who
nodded as
he had the night before. The older boy’s face seemed flushed, but he
nodded
back. “George” forced a smile.
“I
just think that too often the
church gets away from teaching right from wrong. But, I guess that’s
the way of
the world now. I’m just wondering if there’s not going to be a
conservative
backlash to all this in another ten or twenty years.”
As
they approached the minister at the
bottom of the steps, Evan’s grandmother smiled politely and said, “Oh,
I don’t
it’s so much a matter of liberal or conservative as it is following
Christ’s
teaching to love one another.”
It
was obvious “George” was wanting to
respond, but his wife was tugging at the sleeve of his jacket, so he
simply
smiled insincerely and waited for Dorothy to greet the pastor.
“Dorothy!”
the minister said as she
approached him. He held his hand out and gave a warm smile. “How are
you this
morning? I am so glad to see you.”
“I’m
doing wonderfully, Pastor Stuart.
And, compliments on the sermon. I think it’s a message we all need to
hear.”
Evan
thought she might have emphasized
the last sentence a bit more than he would have, considering the
scowling
George behind him.
“And,
who is this fine looking young
man?” the pastor asked looking behind Dorothy at Evan.
“This
is my grandson, Evan, whose just
moved here from
“Pleased
to meet you,” Evan said as he
extended his hand. The pastor grasped it warmly and smiled.
“I’m
so happy to meet you, Evan. Are
you and your grandmother going to the social hall?”
Evan
looked at his grandmother, who
nodded and said, “Of course. Your wife brews the most wonderful iced
tea.”
“Excellent!
Excellent. I have someone
I’d like you to meet, Evan.”
The
pastor moved on to the Sinclairs
behind him and Evan’s heart sank as he followed his grandmother around
the
church toward a more modern looking annex behind it. No, no, he
thought.
“You
know,” his grandmother said,
“Pastor Stuart has two boys, one of whom is also fourteen. I think he
might be
wanting you to meet him. You know, they just moved to Foxwood, as well,
and I
think Adam may be having some trouble making friends. I think it might
be nice
if you could pal around with him. He could help you get to know the
town and
you could…”
“Nana,
the guy’s… well, I don’t know…
retarded, I think.”
They
were approaching the door to the
social hall and as Evan held the door for his grandmother, she looked
at him
reproachfully.
“Evan,
what would make you say such a
thing? You haven’t even met him.”
“I
saw him last night when I was
walking,” he replied following her in. “He was sitting in the grass in
front of
the church just looking off into space. He had this kind of dead look
on his
face.”
However,
before his grandmother could
say anything else, several ladies approached them and, after Evan was
introduced, his grandmother sent him to get bring them two glasses of
iced tea.
As he was waiting in line, he looked around and saw the dark-haired boy
and his
younger brother in the corner talking with some other teenagers. They
were
looking at him and all seemed to be grinning in a disagreeable way. He
turned
away and saw Adam, the pastor’s son, standing near the wall,
motionless, gazing
out the window at the linden tree outside. He didn’t seem rapt or a
fascinated
by it. His was simply staring, motionless, at the tree. Evan snorted.
Adam was
wearing a short-sleeve shirt with a tie. Didn’t anyone in this town
know you
never wore a tie with a short-sleeved shirt? Evan shook his head as he
moved forward
and requested the iced tea.
As
he was walking back to his
grandmother, however, he was waylaid by the Pastor.
“Evan!
So good to see you again.”
Evan’s
reluctance was tempered by the
good feeling he had when the minister looked at him. He had such a warm
and
genuine smile. The man was probably in his late thirties, possibly
forty, with
dark hair and striking blue eyes, He certainly didn’t fit the
stereotype Evan
had.
“Hi,
um Reverend, um Pastor.”
The
minister grinned and took one of
the glasses from Evan. He took a couple of steps and handed it to
Evan’s
grandmother with a smile before returning to the boy.
“Dylan!”
he called. The younger boy
with the darker hair came over from a group of boys with whom he had
been
chatting. “Son, could you bring Adam over here?”
Dylan
seemed less than enthused to
have his conversation interrupted, but he nodded and walked over to the
teenager staring through the window. The minister was uttering some
inane
comments about how difficult he knew it must be to move from
“Ah,
Adam. I want you to meet someone.
This is Evan. He’s Mrs. Vanderlyn’s grandson and he’s just moved here
from
“Hi,”
said Adam looking intently into
Evan’s eyes. “My name is Adam and we moved here a month ago and I don’t
know
anyone either and I don’t have any friends here.”
Evan
felt distinctly uncomfortable
with the way Adam was gazing so intently into his eyes. It was as if he
were
examining him. In fact, Adam leaned closer as he stood there, never
breaking
eye contact.
“Um,
hi. It’s, uh, nice to meet you,
Adam.”
“Do
you want to be my friend? I have a
telescope. It’s a reflecting telescope with 400 power. I can see the
Giant Red
Spot on Jupiter and the rings of Saturn. I play the piano, too. Do you
like
Bach? I do. My favorite is the Third Brandenburg Concerto. I can play
chess,
too. Do you…”
Dylan
interrupted his brother, as if
he were accustomed to doing so.
“Um,
Adam…”
Adam
looked at Dylan and nodded.
“Oh.
OK. I was talking to much. I do
that. You see, I have autism, though I am what they call a High
Functioning
Autistic. That means I have trouble sometimes communicating with others
and
sometimes I have trouble understanding what people are saying.
Actually, I can
understand what they are saying, but they tell me that sometimes people
don’t
say what they mean. They say something that means something different
from what
they say and…”
“Adam,”
said Dylan indulgently,
“you’re doing it again.”
“Oh.”
Adam
averted his eyes and looked
downward.
“It’s
OK. Evan doesn’t mind, do you
Evan?” Dylan said, looking at Evan with warning significance.
“Um,
no. No. Not at all. It’s cool.”
Pastor
Stuart had been watching the
interplay intently, Evan knew, apparently to determine if Evan would be
a good
friend for Adam. Evan was desperately trying to think of some way to
extricate
himself from the conversation without being rude. However, before he
could
think of anything, Pastor smiled and placed a hand on Evan’s shoulder.
“Evan,
your grandmother tells me
you’re quite the tennis player. Is that so?”
Evan
sighed and nodded.
“Yeah,
I’m OK.”
“That’s
cool,” said Adam in his even,
matter-of-fact monotone. “If we’re going to be friends, you can teach
me to
play tennis and I can teach you to play the piano.”
Evan
noticed that Adam, however, was
still looking downward. The fingers on his right hand were moving back
and
forth in what seemed an intricate process and he had started to rock
back and
forth on his feet. Dylan noticed and put an arm around his brother’s
waist,
hugging him. Almost immediately, Adam stopped rocking.
“Well,
yeah, I guess, I could show you
how to play,” Evan replied.
“Good,”
said Adam as Evan’s
grandmother joined the group. “You can come over tomorrow. Mom will fix
lunch
and we will have a picnic in the back. And, then, I’ll show you how to
play the
piano and then I’ll show you how to play chess and then I’ll show you
my
telescope and then you can show me how to play tennis.”
Evan’s
eyes grew a little larger than
normal as he desperately tried to think of what he might be busy with
Monday.
His grandmother, however, ruined everything by enthusiastically
declaring, “I
think that would be marvelous, don’t you, Evan?”
“Um,
sure,” he replied, his heart
sinking.
“Adam,”
said his father, “don’t you
think that might be a bit much for the first day? Maybe you should save
some of
that for later. You don’t want to run out of things to do, do you?”
Adam
shook his head, still looking
downward, his unruly dark-blond hair falling across his face.
“OK.
I’ll show you how to play the
piano first. Well, I have to go play the piano now. I’ll see you
tomorrow. I’m
glad we’re going to be friends. I’ve never had a friend before. It’ll
be cool.
Good-by.”
And,
with that, he turned and loped
away, his the fingers of his right hand furiously tapping out their
patterns
against the palm of his hand.
“Sometimes,”
Pastor Stuart explained,
“Adam likes to play the piano when he’s a bit nervous or uncomfortable.
It
helps calm his nerves.”
Dylan
looked at Evan in the eyes and
with a deadly serious voice, declared, “Don’t hurt his feelings. Adam’s
the
nicest guy in the world. He’s special.”
He
turned and walked away from the
shocked gathering.
“Dylan!”
his father called with
surprise, but the boy walked on and out the door of the social hall.
“I
apologize about that,” Pastor said
with an embarrassed smile. “Dylan’s very protective of his big brother.”
“That’s
quite admirable,” Evan’s
grandmother replied. “And, understandable. Adam seems like a very
multi-talented boy.”
Pastor
smiled. “Quite often, the Lord
makes up for what some of us feel might be deficiencies. Adam has a
sweet and
loving heart, though he has different ways of showing it. And, he is
quite
gifted in many ways. Quite gifted. We like to think his autism is
actually a
blessing from God.”
Evan
didn’t know what to say, but,
fortunately, his grandmother did.
“I’m
sure it is. Well, Evan will be
happy to be here in the morning, won’t you, Evan?”
Politely,
if not with a touch of his
raging uncertainty showing, Evan replied, “Sure. I’ll be here.”
And,
as they and the Sinclairs climbed
into the Vanderlyn Land Yacht for the drive to the Country Club, Evan
looked
out the window.
Great,
he thought. I get to move to a
Podunk town in the
Yet,
Evan remembered the way Adam looked into his eyes, that
penetrating, deep, almost searching gaze, and felt that something had
happened
between the two, something had passed between the two. Was it possible
that
Adam might actually turn out to be interesting? Or something else? He
was
certainly pretty, now that Evan thought about it. He felt a stirring in
his
slacks as he remembered Adam’s strange, meaningful eyes, so different
from the
blank, emotionless face. He thought of the long, thin, almost delicate
eyebrows, the high cheekbones, the voice that seemed to just now be
breaking,
jumping from one octave to another without warning.
Well,
he thought with a cold and
self-centered feeling, maybe he should see what possibilities might
open up
here. It never occurred to him, however, that it might not be he who
was in
control of the situation.
Thank
you for reading Chapter Four of The Foxwood Chronicles.
I hope you enjoyed it and will write to me at fthinker@gmail.com.
Also, please visit my
blog, ChrisThinker for
discussions of
politics, religion, culture, life, and all the things your mother told
you not
to discuss in polite society.