Date: Wed, 9 Apr 2014 02:16:35 -0400 (EDT)
From: DJAkeeba@aol.com
Subject: Tragedy in the Blood, Chapter 5

This story is about male/male relationships and (eventually) contains
graphic descriptions of sex.  You should not read this story if it is in
any way illegal due to your age or residence.

This is a work of pure fiction. This story is the sole property of its
author and may not be copied in whole or in part or posted on any website
without the permission of the author.

Questions and commentary can be sent to djakeeba@aol.com

----------------------

TRAGEDY IN THE BLOOD
by Steven H. Davis

In Chapter 4, Taine came back to school, enduring some whispers and gossip
about the locker room incident the previous week.  Rick and Taine had
lunch, during which Taine began to impart some of his philosophy of the
humanity which, for the most part, he disdained. Rick thought about the
depth and perception of Taine's words until he missed the school bell and
was called out by Vice-Principal Wells.  On his way to class, Rick saw
Taine's father, Sylvester Maxwell, arguing with Principal Towers over
getting Taine excused from gym for the duration of the year.  After
threatening to sue and getting his way, Mr. Maxwell ran into Rick on his
way out of the office, and knew his name...

Chapter 5

"I think that's really great what you did for Taine, sir!"

Still angry, Mr. Maxwell marched right past me, and I figured he hadn't
heard.  Just as he left the office, however, he stopped suddenly.  He came
back in with a curious expression on his face and looked at me with his
wide, dark bulldog eyes.

"You're Ricky," he said.

This startled me.  Not just because he called me "Ricky," which no one ever
did, but because I was baffled as to how he might know me at all.

"Rick, sir," I said.  "Rick Spivey.  It's an honor to meet you."

I held out my hand timidly for a shake, and that's when Sylvester Maxwell,
famous Formula 1 driver and father to Taine, did something really
startling.  Instead of shaking my hand, he moved in closer, wrapped his
gigantic, muscular arms around me and pulled me to his powerful chest in a
fierce bear-hug.

Bewildered, I felt his large hand patting me on the back.  My ribs felt as
if they might break, but for some reason, I hugged him in return.  After a
moment, he released me, his hands easily encircling my thin arms as he held
me away for a better look.

"Taine told me about you," he said.  "You reported that asshole coach so
the security could grab him before he hurt my boy any more than he did."

Strangely embarrassed, I nodded.  Taine told him about me.  The thought
gave me goosebumps.

"I want to thank you for what you did for Taine," Mr. Maxwell continued.
"He tells me you two are friends, and he's lucky to have a friend like
you."

"No, sir," I demurred, smiling.  "It's me who's lucky."

Mr. Maxwell stared at me for a moment, and my heard started pounding,
wondering if I'd given a "tell."  To closeted kids like me, a "tell" was
letting on that your interests in another boy went beyond acceptable social
boundaries.  Inwardly, I gave a huge sigh of relief when he smiled at me,
his bushy black eyebrows raising as if he'd just had a good idea.

"Call your folks," Mr. Maxwell said.  "Let them know I'll be picking both
of you boys up in front of the school at 3:45.  You're having dinner with
us tonight."

Without allowing an answer, he bear-hugged me again and walked off, leaving
me standing there in complete confusion. Taine had told his father about
what I did to help him, even though my guilty conscience said that I hadn't
done enough. That was one thing, but he'd also told him that we were
friends!  And we were having dinner together with his dad!

My heart danced with joy as I went to the bank of pay phones across from
the office to call Rex and tell him I wasn't going to be home for dinner.
That was when Vice-Principal Wells appeared at the end of the corridor and
pointed straight at me.

"SPIVEY!  I told you to get to CLASS!"

Oh, brother.

-------------------------

My next class was Drama 1, and Mr. McRory was understanding about my
tardiness, but told me not to let it become a habit.  He was pretty cool
from what I'd seen so far, and seemed more interested in teaching us to act
than going on about stage-lights and some Elizabethan b.s. like the
curriculum notes had indicated.

He had told us on the first day that he didn't believe in "the Method", the
popular approach to acting developed by Konstantin Stanislavsky which urged
you to use your past experiences and bring your own inner life to the
character.  First of all, he said, we were teenagers and didn't have all
that many relevant experiences from which to draw just yet.  Secondly, the
Method often led to what he called "guys standing off in a corner and
mumbling to themselves", or girls weeping uncontrollably and going out of
character in a torrent of "emotional diarrhea."

"That's not acting," Mr. McRory stated.  "It's not about you.  It's about
the character.  'The play's the thing!'  Know who your character is, what
your character wants.  And for God's sake...if you're going to act, just
get up there and act!"

I was fortunate that Mr. McRory felt that way, because if he'd been a
proponent of Method acting, all of my characters would have been hopelessly
and utterly obsessed with someone whom he had never met.  I smiled to
myself, imagining Mr. McRory's puzzled expression when Romeo -- the
character I'd been given to play in my first acting scene -- suddenly broke
from the script and began rhapsodizing about Taine Maxwell.

"What are you grinning about," came a sly voice to my left.  I turned to
see Kirsten, smiling at me through that strawberry lip-gunk and a face a
bit ashen from overly zealous application of pancake makeup.  As usual, she
wore a thin, fluffy angora sweater, which made her ample bosom appear even
more enormous.  She was a rather forward girl.

"Oh," I said, "nothing.  Just looking forward to doing our first scene."

What I was really looking forward to was dinner at Taine's house, and the
rest of the day passed as slowly as molasses.  We broke into groups and
rehearsed our scenes until the bell rang, and then I went straight to gym.

------------------------------

As I came into the locker room, I saw Taine in the coach's office with
Coach Briggs, his note from Principal Towers sitting on Coach's desk.
Briggs said something and rose from his chair, shaking Taine's hand before
excusing him from the class.  I glanced back briefly, hoping to catch
Taine's eye, but he was already gone, so I went to my dressing bench and
changed into my Polk High shorts and t-shirt.

We played touch football that day, which didn't seem to be for any
educational reason other than to let the coaches scope out our skills in
case they wanted us on the freshman team.  Our quarterback was Billy Higgs,
a fit young kid with wavy, dirty-blonde hair which reached his collar.  He
had cut off his Polk t-shirt just below the ribs, so as to better show off
his tanned, rippling six-pack of abs to the girls' P.E. class running
around the track.  The girls weren't very well supervised, and Billy
pointed my attention to Kirsten, who was walking well behind the running
mass, smoking a long, thin cigarette and looking over at us.

"That girl really digs you," Billy said.

I pointed at his tight belly.  "I think she digs that."

"We'll see," he grinned.  "Go out for a pass and we'll see who she's
watching."

I lined up at tight end, my long legs easily juking and confusing the hefty
Rolando, who had stupidly decided that he was guarding me that day.  I ran
ten yards past him, then hooked to the sideline as Jerry Klimler -- who was
playing DB -- got off his receiver and headed my way.  Billy launched a
wobbly, loose duck of a pass, which actually worked to my advantage as I
was a little out of position.

I grabbed it, spun, and was off to the races as Jerry dove right at the
spot where I had been a half-second before.  I spiked the ball in the
end-zone, and looked back to see my teammates cheering and Billy grinning,
tilting his head toward the track.  Kirsten stood there, smiling at me
coolly while French-inhaling thin tendrils of whitish smoke from her long
cigarette.

"Told ya," Billy laughed, as Kirsten theatrically gave me a small golf-clap
before turning to follow the track.

I grinned and followed Billy and the rest of the boys back inside to
shower.  It was funny, I thought as I lathered up under the steamy mist.  A
week ago, I would have been scoping out all the wet dicks, glistening butts
and slippery legs in the large communal shower area.  Today, my mind was on
the only person who had been excused from this bizarre bathing ritual.

I pictured him in study hall, slouching at a desk while all around him, the
other kids whispered, passed notes, planned parties.  I wondered if he even
wanted to be a part of those activities, or to attend those parties.  I
smiled while imagining him giving me a disdainful smirk for even having
that thought.

Yup, I admitted, Taine Maxwell was in my head to stay.

-----------------------------

I finished my shower early, dressed, and made my phone-call to Rex about my
plans for dinner.  He was already half in the tank and merely mumbled his
displeasure about having to feed the birds himself.  We had a bird-feeder
and birdbath in the back yard, at my new mother's insistence, and I was
expected to fill the feeder with seed and change the water in the bath at
4:15 sharp, a few minutes before she got home from her secretarial job at
the local Air Force base.

"I'm just messing with you, kid," he slurred.  "I'll feed the damn birds.
Have a good time."

I thanked him and hung up the phone.  I didn't have History class on
Mondays, so I went straight to Biology, where we were dissecting and
labeling *rana pipiens,* the Northern leopard frog.  That was when I got
another surprise.

Ms. Ogretz, our 26-year old Biology teacher, was secured to her desk with
ropes as if she was being held hostage.  Her face was red and there was a
single tear rolling down her left cheek.

I was rooted to the spot, not knowing whether to help her or run screaming
from the room.  That was when my lab partner, Greg Arroyo, pushed past me,
set his books down on our lab table, and went to stand in front of
Ms. Ogretz's desk.

"He got you again, didn't he?" Greg grinned.

I stared at the scene, only relaxing when I realized that Ms. Ogretz's red
face and tears were due to frustrated laughter. Greg flipped his
shoulder-length black hair from his eyes and went around the desk to free
our teacher.

"I am soooo gonna get him, Greg!"

"Get who?" I asked, rushing to help.  I glanced at Greg, noting his tight
black t-shirt emblazoned with scenes of demons and carnage topped by a red
logo for the heavy-metal band Iron Maiden.  As he loosened the ropes from
our giggling young instructor, he grinned to acknowledge me and pointed
over my shoulder.

I turned to see my equally young History teacher, Mr. Arispe, chuckling in
the doorway behind me.  He winked mischievously and moved away down the
corridor.

"They're always pranking each other," said Greg, removing the last of
Ms. Ogretz's bonds as amused students began piling into the classroom.  "I
think they're sweet on each other."

"Which you wouldn't know if this wasn't your second go-round with me,
Gregory."  Ms. Ogretz was trying to get back into teacher-mode, but her
giggles gave away both her youth and romantic delight at Mr. Arispe's
prank.

"Hey," Greg retorted as Ms. Ogretz gathered her thoughts, "you need someone
like me around to untie you.  One of these days I'll be a sophomore and
you'll be stuck there all day."

I shook my head and took my seat with a smile.  High school certainly
was... uhm... different.

--------------------------------------------

When Biology was over, and I had washed the frog-gunk from my hands in one
of the stainless-steel sinks at the side of the classroom, I got my books
and headed to my locker.  I hurriedly dumped my book-bag inside, then
rushed to the parents' pick-up area outside the school.  I saw Taine and
went over to him.  He had taken off his cap and held it in one of those
perfect, perfect hands as he ran the other through his soft, silken shag.

Seeing his face turned to the afternoon sunlight, his eyes closed in
obvious relief at the end of another school day, he looked so angelic and
peaceful.  I took a deep breath, trying to get oxygen back into my lungs,
because looking at his beautiful pale face in the sunshine had taken it all
away.

By the time I reached him, the cap was back in place, as he stood facing
the road with his book-bag resting by his Jegs-clad feet.  He must have
heard my approach, as he turned and faced me, again with that adorable
smirk playing on his sweet lips.

"Hey," he said by way of greeting.

"Hey, Taine," I replied.  I went to stand next to him, also scanning the
road.  I half-expected his dad to pull up in a Formula 1 car, although I
knew logically that the thought was ridiculous.

"Your dad picking you up?" he asked.

"Nope," I grinned.  "Yours is!  Didn't he tell you?"

Taine looked at me as if I had lost my mind, so I filled him in on my
run-in with his father after lunch.

"I guess he was grateful or something," I concluded, "because he's taking
us both to dinner."

Taine absorbed this information, and I was crushed to see the dejection in
his stance and voice as he replied.

"That sucks," was what he said.

I couldn't help it.  My lower lip began to quiver.  My nose started to run,
and my eyes began filling with tears.

"I don't have to go if you don't want me to," I snivelled.

Taine looked up at me, startled at my reaction.  Then it dawned on him.

"No..." he said gently.  "It's not you.  I want you to come.  I just hate
restaurants.  I can never find anything on the menu I want to eat."

I looked back at him nervously, feeling like an idiot.

"Really?"  I asked shyly.

He didn't smile, but very seriously shook his head in the affirmative.
Abashed, I composed myself as I saw his father through the windshield of an
approaching Mercedes.  Mr. Maxwell pulled the car to a stop in front of us
and popped the door locks.  Taine got in front and I sat in the back seat
directly behind him.  Mr. Maxwell grinned at me in the rearview mirror.

"How ya doin', Ricky?" he called jovially.

"It's Rick, dad," Taine said, quietly but forcefully.

He lowered his head and I thought this amazing, incredible kid is
embarrassed by everything.  It's like he's ashamed to be human.

"Rick it is, then," said Mr. Maxwell amiably.  "You like Sizzler, sport?"

"Yes, sir!" I replied enthusiastically.  I loved Sizzler, but the only
restaurant Rex ever took us to was Luby's cafeteria, every Thursday night
like clockwork.  Even

Taine seemed a bit cheered by the prospect.

"Sizzler is the only restaurant where Taine actually eats," Mr. Maxwell
explained.  "So I thought we'd give 'er a go."

He put the car in gear and began driving toward the restaurant.

Taine turned toward the window and I focused on the soft, wispy hairs on
the back of his slender and graceful neck.

And that was when the truck hit us.

-------------------------------

Thank you for reading Chapter 5.  To be continued...

More and more of you are writing to me, and I am so happy to get your
e-mails, as they are the only way I know whether you like this story enough
for me to continue.  You have all been overwhelmingly supportive of this,
my first Nifty story, and I thank you all.  I'm always happy to hear from
readers at DJAkeeba@aol.com

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