Secrets of Waldo 3

The following contains scenes of sexual activity between males. If it is illegal for you to read this in your area or if you feel you may be offended by doing so, please do not continue. This story is complete fiction and any similarities between people and places in the story and those in reality are purely coincidental. Some of the characters may engage in behavior which could be construed as illegal or unsafe. This is not an endorsement of such behavior. The author does not condone the violation of any law, nor does he encourage unsafe behavior. Please do not copy or post any part of this story without the knowledge or consent of the author.

The lyrics for Betcha By Golly, Wow by The Stylistics, Ó1972, Thom Bell and Linda Creed. Not used by permission, but as a tribute to the song, the composer, and the artists.

Please send any comments to my new address, ChrisWriter @ operamail.com. Thank you for reading my story!

The Secrets of Waldo

by FreeThinker (Chris Writer)

Chapter Three

During Fifth Hour, Sean had History and Adam had Science, the reverse of Second Hour. They passed each other in the hallway as they headed for their lockers, but both were too embarrassed to look at the other.

For Adam, it was just too weird. This entire day had been just too weird. He sees the boy of his dreams, he sees him get a fill-blown, rip-roaring hard-on in the showers, and then he sits in the boys room and beats-off in front of him. What in the heck was happening?

Mrs. Lightner did not force him to once again introduce himself. Instead, she launched right into her lecture on sub-atomic particles. And, for the next hour, Adam was able to loose himself in learning. He took careful notes and decided that Mrs. Lightner would probably be one of his favorite teachers.

Sixth Hour was English. As Adam was approaching his locker to deposit his new Science book, he felt a sudden shove to the side and found himself sprawled across the floor of the hallway. Gavin Dietrich and Craig Sutherland strutted onward laughing, as were several others in the hall. Adam tried to retrieve his notebook before too many people walked on it, making no effort to avoid it, then his Science book which had landed open to the middle, which pages were now covered with muddy shoe prints; and then he stood with as much dignity as possible and proceeded on to his locker.

Its just the usual high school shit, nothing more, he thought to himself. But, somehow, he didn=t feel too reassured. Slamming the door and snapping the lock, he waited for the crowd to thin a bit before heading to English.

His final class of the day was on the second floor. As he headed for the main stairway in the front of the school, he saw, halfway up the stairs, the tight butt of Sean Lindquist. Once again, he felt as if he had been hit in the chest and stomach. As he turned halfway up and went up the next section, Sean snapped his head to toss the hair away that had fallen over his face. Adam lost a breath as he watched.

By the time, he reached the second floor, he saw Sean heading in the same direction. Oh, no. They were going to be in the same English class. He would never be able to concentrate. This semester was shot, at least as far as Algebra, Gym, and English were concerned.

Indeed, Sean was in Sixth Hour English. Mrs. Pendergast watched as Adam entered the classroom at a discrete distance behind Sean. She said nothing, but arched an eyebrow and signaled to him with her index finger to approach. Wordlessly, she handed him a thick text, English Literature and Grammar for the Modern American, and then pointed to an empty desk beside a window overlooking the storefronts on the south side of the school. For a someone who was supposed to be teaching how to communicate clearly, she certainly did so with a minimum of words!

He froze for only a second before proceeding on to the appointed desk when he saw Sean sitting two desks in front of his assigned seat. The object of his fascination was looking down at his book, seemingly engrossed by the material. He didn’t even look up as Adam passed and when he took his seat, Adam wondered if Sean was feeling guilty or shameful about what had happened. Suddenly, Adam felt guilt and shame. He felt tears form in his eyes as thoughts of “pervert” and “sicko” raced through his mind.

Mrs. Pendergast spared Adam the hourly introduction to the class. Indeed, she seemed, after having given him his textbook and assigned him to his desk, to have completely forgotten his very existence. She stood before the class and announced that for the next few weeks, they would be studying essays. They would learn how to structure an effective essay and they would read some of the great essays of literature. As she stood at the board outlining the proper structure of an essay, Adam tried to concentrate, but his self-loathing nearly made it impossible.

It was his fault. He had lured Sean into the bathroom. Sean wouldn’t have come to the bathroom if he hadn’t seen Adam rushing down the hallway. He wouldn’t have masturbated in front of him if he hadn’t seen Adam doing it. Adam had corrupted him. Adam was evil.

By the end of the class, Adam was feeling numb. That was what he did. When the pain of life grew unbearable, he simply switched off his emotions. As the bell rang, chaos erupted as the twenty other students rushed to evacuate the class. Adam slowly, automatically, rose. He saw Sean hurry out of the class without looking back and Adam’s heart broke.

He remembered nothing of navigating his way through the halls to his locker, or of donning his coat, hat, and gloves. The next thing he knew was that he was trudging toward the lobby of the school with his backpack slung over his shoulder dressed as an Arctic explorer when, suddenly, he saw a crowd of kids before him not moving. They seemed to be laughing and goading someone on. Looking over the heads and shoulders in front of him, his breathing stopped as he saw the jerk from second hour History, Jack Purvis, standing in the center of the circle and gloating as he looked down at the floor.

“What’s the matter, Seany-boy? Can’t take the truth?”

Without thinking, Adam slowly pushed through the crowd until he saw Sean laying on the floor with Purvis’s foot on his chest. His coat was open and his backpack was laying on the floor beside him. His face was one of total abject humiliation.

Adam approached and stood silent and motionless, looking Purvis in the face. Apparently unaccustomed to peers challenging him, Purvis looked slightly surprised at Adam’s intrusion on his merriment.

“What?” he grunted. Adam simply stood there, saying nothing, his eyes locked on the bully’s. However, it seemed to have an effect because Purvis removed his foot from Sean’s chest and took a step back. Adam looked down at Sean and saw the look of shock on the boy’s face. He reached down and extended his hand. Sean took it and stood up.

“Is this your new boyfriend, Seany?” Purvis sneered. Sean said nothing as he picked up his backpack. Adam merely stood his ground, his eyes still locked on Purvis’s. The bully seemed unsure of how to react, but was about to say something when a man’s voice boomed over the crowd.

“What’s going here?”

Adam didn’t flinch, keeping his eyes on Purvis as the crowd suddenly dispersed and the audience disappeared. He felt a firm hand on his shoulder and finally breaking his gaze with Purvis, looked up to see a man with slick, jet-black hair and dark eyes, a bulbous nose, and thick black brows looking menacingly down at him.

“I don’t like bullies,” Adam replied softly.

“I don’t either. You two, my office. Now.”

Purvis merely sneered and followed Adam and the man.

“What’s your name,” the man demanded as they walked passed the desks of the schools administration and into a door labeled “Howard Huber, Principal.”

“Adam Foster,” he replied softly and evenly.

The man sat down behind his desk. Adam could see perspiration stains under the arms of the man’s white shirt-sleeved shirt and there was something cream-colored caked on his wide flowery tie.

“You’re new?”

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Huber looked at Purvis and scowled.

“Detention doesn’t work with you, Purvis. Swats don’t work. What does work with you?”

“Nothin’,” Purvis replied defiantly.

The man sighed and looked at Adam.

“I don’t want to see you in here again,” he growled. “Get out.”

Adam and Purvis both turned.

“No. Purvis, you stay.”

Adam gladly exited the principal’s office and the administration center. It wasn’t until he was in the now almost deserted lobby of the school that he stopped and relaxed. He didn’t know what had come over him, but when he saw that jerk standing over Sean and that look of shame, that horrible look of shame on Sean’s face, he just reacted automatically.

Sean. He looked around, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. He had probably gotten out of there as quickly as possible. Adam didn’t blame him. He sighed and slowly trudged toward the door and out into the biting winter air.

000

Sean’s mind was a whirl of emotion as he tramped through the slush along State Street. Dozens of other kids walked along beside him as cars and busses lumbered past in the still falling snow. No one had ever taken up for him before. And, it was Adam Foster who had done so. Adam.

Sean didn’t know how many years he had gone through bullying and harassment and ridicule. It seemed to be his entire life, at least since his mother had… well. At least since he was ten. Probably longer. He tended to push painful memories from his mind. He knew that he had fought the bullying for some time, but that his efforts had been of no avail. The constant, unremitting abuse had continued unabated and undiminished; and, no one had ever stopped to come to his aid. Until today.

In fact, twice someone had come to his aid. Jason Huffnagle had shown him friendship in the cafeteria when everyone was laughing at him about his erection in PE; and, now, Adam Foster had come to his aid as Purvis had subjected him to his daily ritual.

Adam. Adam Foster.

Sean repeated the boy’s name over and over in his mind as he crossed the light at 15th Street and turned off State Street and away from the stores that lined the thoroughfare. The small, old bungalows along 15th were not like the more expensive old mansions south of there, past 18th St. They were mostly inhabited by elderly retired people, people like Sean’s grandfather.

Adam Foster. Adam had stood up for him. Maybe Adam really liked him. They had masturbated together in the restroom. True, it had been a pretty strange experience, and Sean had felt really weird when it was over. Adam had looked pretty weird, too. But, he had stood up for him! He had taken up for him! Adam Foster. Maybe, just maybe, Adam would be his friend. Maybe… maybe even, his boyfriend.

Some elementary school kids hiding behind some giant holly on the corner a few houses up from his home attacked Sean with snowballs. His first reaction was to react angrily and feel sorry for himself that even little kids picked on him. However, the image of Adam standing so bravely before Jack Purvis inspired him and, bending over, he grabbed some snow and maniacally began to hurl fusillades toward the perpetrators. Within minutes, it had become full scale war and both he and the boys hiding behind the holly were laughing. When, after a few minutes, the boys called for a truce, Sean grinned at them and began to tramp on home along the unshovelled sidewalk, but not before one final snowball landing square on the back of his head.

The small house he shared with his grandfather was not fancy or elaborate, but it was the best kept in the neighborhood, with a large front porch guarded by huge planters all along the outer edges. Green holly bushes with myriads of red berries stood sentinel around the porch and a black pole, along the steps before the sidewalk, with a yard lamp cast the slightly green glow of a natural gas light across the almost pristine white of the yard. Sean tramped up the driveway and around the house to the back. His grandfather stood waiting for him in the mudroom to help him out of his winter things.

“Well, you certainly looked cheerful today, son,” he said in his quiet and kind way as he hung Sean’s winter coat above the radiator. “You must have had a good day at school.”

His grandfather slowly walked over to the counter of the old kitchen and removed two large mugs from the cabinet above. He then proceeded over to the ancient oven and stove and poured steaming hot cocoa into the megs, before setting them on the kitchen table. Sean gave his grandfather a warm hug and the elderly man kissed the boy’s forehead and ran his hand over Sean’s hair. Over the soft sound of a Mozart piano concerto emanating from the living room, Sean sat down and took a deep breath before responding.

He thought for a moment before replying, “Well, it was pretty normal in some ways,” (not elaborating on just what he meant by “normal”), “but I think I may have found a new friend.”

His grandfather beamed as he took the chair beside Sean.

“Oh, have you? How wonderful!” he declared with enthusiasm. “Do tell me about him!”

Sean smiled at his grandfather’s joy. Seldom did Sean have truly good news to relate from his days at school. He tried to refrain from letting his grandfather know the Hellish life he faced on a daily basis at Waldo. The knowledge of his grandson’s pain would distress him too much and Sean loved the kind and gentle man too much to cause him concern. It doubled the boy’s enthusiasm to know that his grandfather shared his joy.

“This really cool guy just moved here from Washington, DC and he’s really smart and... umm... I saw this serious jerk named Jack Purvis bullying some freshman really bad, and Adam pushed through the crowd and stood up to Jack and made him stop. And, what’s so cool about it is that he isn’t really some big jock-like guy. He’s just some quiet, smart guy and... he was so cool.”

Sean saw his grandfather’s eyes look deeply into his own. He often wondered how perceptive his Grandad was and if he ever guessed the truth about Sean’s life at school and, for a fraction of a second, Sean felt the burning of embarrassment start in his cheeks. But, just as quickly as it started, he saw a wide smile form on his grandfather’s face. Of course, he couldn’t mention the masturbation they had silently shared in the boys’ room that afternoon, but his Grandad seemed so genuinely pleased, that it was like icing on the cake of his joy. All the pain and humiliation of the day had begun to dissolve as he partook of the snowball fight with those young hellions out front; and, his Grandad’s pleasure at his new-found friend, (if, indeed, he was his new friend), seemed to legitimize his happiness at finding a friend.

“So, what is this Galahad’s name?”

“Adam Foster,” Sean replied with pride.

“Well,” his Grandad responded, “it sounds like a very solid and heroic name. Adam was the first man; and, Foster is a very old and established Scots name. Yes, indeed. He sounds very solid and heroic.”

The sound of honking could be heard from the driveway and, a moment later, an elderly black woman entered the kitchen and placed an affectionate hand on Sean’s shoulder.

“I have a nice casserole for you in the ice box, Mr. Lindquist. When you’re ready, just heat the oven up to three-fifty and bake it for forty-five minutes.”

“Thank you so much, Marvella,” he replied as he stood and helped her into her coat. “You are too kind. And, say hello to Theodore for me!”

When the housekeeper had left, his Grandad refilled their cocoa and then went into the living room; Sean followed, carrying his satchel with him. He left to go to the bathroom and when he returned, he found his grandfather standing beside the fireplace as the gas logs glowed and warmed the small living room. Sean stood silently watching him rest his arm on the mantle as he gazed at the picture of a man in a modern Army uniform, gazing proudly outward. It was one of several framed photographs on the mantle, but it was the most prominently displayed. Slowly, he turned and looked at Sean, a sad smile on his face. Sean walked over and hugged his grandfather before they both took chairs in front of the fireplace, Sean opening his History text, his grandfather opening a volume of Voltaire.

000

Adam sat at his desk, his English text open before him, listening to Dream Weaver on Z-93.He was staring out the window over the snow-covered trees at the lights of downtown Greenfield. The smell of his mother's pot roast down in the kitchen wafted over him as his mind wandered away from his homework. The early winter darkness was clear of snow and the lights of the high rises seemed crisp and clear he sat with his chin resting on his fist. He couldn't concentrate on the essay assigned for his overnight reading, "Civil Disobedience," by Henry David Thoreau. As he gazed through the darkness, the image of Sean Lindquist seemed to float over the lights of downtown, his pretty smile, his beautiful eyes, his stunning hair dominating his daydream and destroying any concentration he might have mustered. His emotions were a complete jumble. The boy was the most beautiful he had ever seen; yet, he seemed like such a wimp, laying there and taking the humiliation of Jack Purvis. Yet, he felt sorry for Sean and fury at Purvis. And, on top of it all were the shame he felt over their strange masturbation in the restroom and his desire at that moment to rip his pants open and beat-off again to fantasies of kissing and sucking the gorgeous boy. It was infuriating and confusing. He wished Chip were there. His big brother was always there to listen and offer advice. Of course, he might not be very receptive to his little brother admitting that he wanted to commit sodomy with another boy. Adam sighed.

The bell his mother rang every evening to announce that dinner was ready awoke him from his thoughts. Pulling his sweater down over his crotch and adjusting his boner in his tight slacks, Adam slowly walked out into the hall and down the stairs. He could hear his parents talking in the dining room and, with his usual wariness, he paused on the last step and took a deep breath.

His father was standing at his chair watching as his mother entered from the kitchen with a plate of dinner rolls, which she placed on the table. Neither seemed to notice him and when his mother had taken her chair, Adam and his father sat down. His father said Grace and resumed his conversation with his mother. Neither seemed to notice that Adam was at the table, for which Adam was immensely grateful. However, about halfway through dinner, as his parents seemed to exhaust the topic of his father's first day at the office, his father turned to Adam and asked in a brusque voice, as if it were a responsibility rather than a pleasure to do so, "How was your first day at school?"

Adam finished chewing his bite of pot roast, which gave him time to think.

"It was interesting," he replied truthfully. "I met Jason Huffnagle."

Before Adam could even begin his reply, his father had looked away and almost seemed to have lost interest; but the mention of "Huffnagle" seemed to have caught his attention.

"The General's son?" he asked.

"His nephew."

This must not have been as impressive to his father as Jason being the General's son would have been, but the Colonel still pursued his questioning.

"Did you introduce yourself?"

"No, actually, he introduced himself. He said if I need any help, I should just ask. He seems like a really nice guy."

His mother nodded with approval.

"Well, I think its a good idea for you to cultivate a friendship with Jason. You never know how valuable that could be. Just don't pull one of your stunts, again, and embarrass your father and me."

Adam wasn't quite certain what "one of his stunts" would be, but his heart sank after thinking that his parents would be pleased that Jason seemed to be befriending him.

"No, ma'am," he replied softly as he raised a forkful of broccoli.

"So, how did Jason know who you were, to introduce himself?" his father asked inquisitorially. Adam swallowed his broccoli and nervously clutched his hands under the table.

"Well, I had to introduce myself during First Hour and tell a little bit about myself. So I mentioned we moved here for your job at Multitron."

His father frowned.

"So, you were bragging?"

Adam was completely taken by surprise. Bragging had been the furthest thin from his mind. If anything, Adam considered his father leaving Arlington and The Pentagon for Greenfield and Multitron a step down, not something to brag about. Adam didn't know how to respond, but his look of confusion did not satisfy his father.

"Answer me. Were you bragging?"

N-n-no. I... it never occurred to me that that was bragging. The teacher asked why we moved here and I told him."

His father glared at him darkly and then resumed eating. Adam concluded that his contribution to the dinner conversation was ended. Barely able to eat anything else, he finished his dinner and after putting the dishes in the dishwasher, he returned to the relative safety and peace of his sanctuary, his bedroom.

It was nearly ten before he was finished with his last assignment. The break for dinner seemed to have cleared his head enough to concentrate on his homework, but as Randy Andy announced his "Golden Oldie" for the evening, "Betcha By Golly, Wow," by The Stylistics, he looked out the window and wondered what Sean was doing at that moment, if he was finished with his homework and was maybe sitting at his desk thinking about him. He wondered if Sean was listening to Z-93 at that moment and if he liked "Betcha By Golly, Wow." Adam imagined Sean sitting at his desk, dreaming of Adam, and gazing wistfully out his window.

"Betcha By Golly, Wow,

You're the one that I've been waiting for, forever.

And, ever will my love for you keep growing strong,

Keep growing strong."

And, later that night, after his shower and as he lay in bed in the dark and stroking himself, he dreamt not of the wild, crazy scene in the restroom, but of he and Sean, sitting on a couch, the boy's head on his shoulder and their arms around each other. His face was in Sean's hair and they were rocking slowly back and forth to The Stylistics. When he finally came, after stopping himself three times, Adam moaned softly, "I love you, Sean," and slowly drifted off to sleep as images of the boy floated through his mind.

000

The clouds had disappeared by Tuesday morning and a brilliant sun shown blindingly on the blanket of Monday snow as Sean walked up State Street to school. It was beautiful, though without the protection of the clouds holding in what little warmth there may have been, the air was even more bitterly cold than Monday. His cheeks almost seemed frozen, but Sean didn't care. He was happy.

He was humming a cute song he had heard on the radio the previous night as he had finished his homework. He didn't know who the artists were but he thought it was called Betcha My Golly, Wow. He really liked it and, for some reason, it made him think of Adam Foster, especially that line, "You're the one that I've been waiting for, forever." The way Adam had looked at him as they sat in the restroom, that special look of two boys sharing a moment, that special understanding that seemed to pass between them; and, then, that glorious moment when he had come to his aid in the lobby as that bastard Purvis had pushed him down after he had accidentally bumped Purvis' shoulder... Adam was smart and brave and handsome and almost certainly gay. Yes, Sean was in love and he doubted anything or anyone could ruin his glorious mood that morning.

Indeed, as he crossed the light at 11th Street, even the sight of Gavin Dietrich emerging from a Mercedes in front of the school did nothing to dampen his mood. Entering Waldo, he continued to hum The Stylistics as he made his way through the crowds toward his locker. Even the several upperclassmen who so politely shouldered and butted him out of their way failed to break the sense of happiness he felt.

As he stood before his locker, removing his winter garb, he glanced up and down the hall and saw Adam standing before the locker he had been assigned. He didn't seem to have noticed Sean. His heart sped up and he felt his face flush. He needed to say something to him, to acknowledge what he had done for him the day before, to thank him for sticking up for him. Yet, the memory of the restroom was intruded and he felt such hesitant. He kept his eyes locked on Adam as he hung his coat and placed his hat and gloves on the shelve above. Removing his Algebra book for First Hour, he was about to throw his satchel into the locker and slam the door shut when, suddenly, Adam looked over and their eyes met. Sean nervously sucked his lips inward and Adam merely looked at him, expressionless. A tall redheaded senior whom Sean knew to be a basketball player bumped Adam's shoulder. He turned and apologized to Adam, but the moment was broken. It gave Sean a chance to take a breath, and exhaling deeply, he walked toward the door to Homeroom. He turned around as he was about to go in and saw Adam approaching behind a couple of stupidly giggling girls. Sean waited and allowed the girls to pass. Adam was blushing fiercely as he came up to Sean.

"Hi."

They both stood in the middle of the door, speechless, looking, first, at each other, and, then, at each others' feet.

"Get the fuck out of the way!" Gavin Dietrich barked as he pushed between Adam and Sean. Both boys seemed to awaken and followed him into the classroom. But, standing aside by the front blackboard, Sean suddenly turned to Adam and said, feeling reckless, "Um, thanks."

Adam stopped and blushed even more as he replied, "For what?"

"Well, you know, like standing up for me yesterday and everything."

Adam smiled shyly and looked down at the floor again.

"Yeah, well. It wasn't, like, anything. He just like really like pissed me off."

"yeah. Well, thanks."

They both continued to stand there for a moment, an embarrassed silence growing as both tried desperately to think of something else to say when suddenly, Adam, feeling reckless himself, looked up with a shy, sly grin and said softly, "Yeah, well, at first thought you were thanking me for, well, you know, like, Fourth Hour."

Sean looked shocked for just the briefest moment and Adam instantly regretted bringing the incident up. But, just as quickly, Sean broke into a grin and giggled.

"Yeah, well, yeah. Thanks for that, too."

And, as he giggled, Adam couldn't help but start to giggle as well. As the bell rang, Mr. Worsley cleared his throat and the two, blushing now for a different reason, rushed to their desks.

Algebra was uneventful, with the exception of Craig Sutherland being sent to the office for rather noisily passing gas in response to Mr. Worsley's request that he give the answer to problem number six from their homework. Adam and Sean didn’t have another opportunity to speak again until Third Hour PE. However, that was a concern to both boys. Sean was already hard as he left Second Hour Science and his terror of being hard in PE yet again and of Adam seeing him, as well as his seeing Adam naked, insured that he was a nervous wreck as he entered the locker room. Fortunately, his nerves over-ruled his hormones and he was able to climb into his gym clothes with no embarrassment. And, during the shower, both boys succeeded in not looking at each other, indeed, or even speaking until they were both dressed.

Adam found himself standing face-to-face with Sean at the door leading out of the shower room to the hallway at the beginning of lunch hour. Both, once again, seemed at a loss for words.

"So, um, you, uh, you going to lunch?" he asked uncertainly. Sean merely nodded.

"So, um, cool. You, uh, you mind if I sit with you?"

Sean grinned and replied, "Sure."

As they walked through the hall to the cafeteria, the ice slowly seemed to break and Sean and Adam gradually began to warm to each other, laughing at each other's jokes and trading opinions about various teachers.

Standing in line, waiting to pick up their trays, shyness once again overtook them and they were silent as they looked around the cafeteria. The environment in the huge room seemed to be one of controlled chaos as Aerosmith blared from a radio on a nearby table competing with the Bay City Rollers from another further away. Jason Huffnagle was sitting in the middle of the cafeteria surrounded by several other good-looking jock-like guys and cheerleader-like girls. Jason nodded and smiled as their eyes met, though a couple of the guys at the table looked at Adam and Sean and smirked.

When they emerged from the kitchen with their meat loaf, corn, and a glob of white pasty stuff that almost, but not quite, resembled mashed potatoes, Adam was leading the way.

“So, where do you want to sit?”

Sean, accustomed to eating alone, merely shrugged and indicated the decision was Adam’s. Spying a few empty tables toward the main entrance, Adam started in that direction, which took them past Jason’s table.

“Hey, Adam!” Jason called out as they passed. “Have a seat!”

Adam smiled nervously as all but one guy at the table smirked again.

“Thanks.”

However, before he could set his tray down, there was a loud crash behind him. Turning he found Sean sprawled on the floor, his food and dishes strewn all around. Jack Purvis was about ten feet away with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Fuck, Lindquist! You sure are clumsy!”

Adam immediately dropped his tray on the table, and helped Sean up. His friend’s face was brilliantly red with shame and embarrassment. Food was caked all over his shirt and slacks.

“You OK?” Adam asked softly. Sean merely moved his head slightly. Adam clenched his fists and his eyes met Purvis’. He stepped forward.

“Uh, oh,” said Purvis, a couple of other thugs standing behind him chuckling. “Looks like Seany’s boyfriend is pissed off!”

“Leave him alone,” Adam declared in a clear even voice.

Purvis laughed.

“Who’s gonna make me?”

From behind Adam came another clear, even voice.

“I am.”

“Me, too.”

Adam glanced back and saw Jason standing next to his table along with three of his buddies, including the one guy who hadn’t smirked as he and Sean had approached the table.

“Stay outta this, Huffnagle,” Purvis warned.

“Can’t do that, Purv,” Jason said coming around the table to stand next to Adam. The others followed and soon Purvis and his two cohorts were confronted by five opponents.

The cafeteria had become strangely silent. Conversations ceased. The radio’s were turned down. All attention was centered on the nine boys standing in the center of the room. And, on the tall redheaded teacher casually approaching from the side.

“Mr. Purvis, having a good day?” asked Mr. Ryan. Purvis said nothing as the teacher stopped beside Sean.

“Are you alright, Sean?” the teacher asked softly as he placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Sean looked down at the mess on the floor and said nothing.

“Adam, why don’t you and Sean go to the restroom and you can help him clean up.”

Mr. Ryan smiled reassuringly at him.

“Yes, sir.”

Before they could move, however, Mr. Ryan looked at Jason and said, “Thank you, Jason. I can take it from here.”

Jason nodded and he and his friends returned to their seats.

“Hannety, Fields. Get outta here before I take you, too.”

The two goons standing beside Purvis merely watched vacuously.

“Now!” Mr. Ryan barked.

The two jumped and scurried away.

Adam guided Sean away from the confrontation and toward the door. They passed the Assistant Principal, who had been seated at a faculty table nearby and who was only now standing up. He looked contemptuously at the two boys as they passed. Adam knew the look. He had seen it dozens of times before on the faces of teachers and administrators at his old school who hadn’t wanted to get involved in stopping bullying or who thought the victims deserved the bullying. Their eyes met as silent and contemptuous understanding passed between them.

There were several other guys in the boys’ room as Adam guided Sean inside. They said nothing as the two stood before the sinks and Adam started pulling paper towels from the dispenser on the wall. He began wiping food off Sean’s shirt as two of the other in the restroom left. A third was washing his hands and then left, as well. Leaving them alone.

“You OK?” Adam asked softly.

Sean merely looked at the buttons on Adam’s shirt.

“It’s be OK. He’s not going to mess with you anymore.”

Sean swallowed and, still looking at Adam’s shirt, said softly, “I hate him. I want to kill him.”

“Yeah, I know,” Adam said tossing a couple of paper towels away and pulling down a couple more. “He’s a real jerk.”

“No,” said Sean softly. “I want to kill him.”

There was something in the way Sean uttered the words that made Adam stop and look at him; but, after only a moment, the dead look on the blond boy’s face disappeared. He looked gratefully up at Adam, tears in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “Thank you.”over the snow-covered trees.

Thus ends Chapter Three. I hope you are enjoying the story and will let me know what you think by sending me your thoughts at my new address, ChrisWriter @ operamail.com. Thank you so much for reading my story.