Date: Fri, 19 Oct 2001 16:35:50 -0400
From: Tom Cup <tom_cup@hotmail.com>
Subject: Kevin Series - Chapter 21

The Lion of Bolognia -- Kevin Part 2 by Tom Cup

Copyright 2000, 2001 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All
rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
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Florissant, CO 80816

This is a fictional story involving youth/youth or adult/youth sexual
relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any
further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names,
characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or
locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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This story is part of the Tom Cup Library

Please visit the member's area of the Tom Cup Library for Chapter 11 of The
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Kevin
Part 3
Aftermath
Chapter 3
Donna

>From the "Biography of The Lion of Bolognia":

He could always tell when things were bothering me, when I needed him. And
so he came to me that night.

"What d'ya know kiddo?"

It's strange, how all your forgotten emotions come flooding back in an
instant.  Hearing his voice did that to me.  I felt at once the frightened
kid on the streets with nowhere to go, no one to love and be loved by; the
curious boy in a hotel for the first time, waiting to experience his sexual
awakening; the captive hostage, feeling dread, hopelessness and anger; the
beloved son of proud parents, and I felt like a lover awaiting his beloved.
Tony's voice caused all these things to rise in me, in an instant. I smiled.

He sat on the bed with me. I rolled into his lap, hugging him. He laughed
and began rubbing my arm.

"Are you staying?" I asked.

"Hmmm.... The night.  I have a flight to Philly tomorrow."

I looked up at him. He smiled.

"Want to come along?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"We could eat at Bookbinder's, stay at Rittenhouse."

"Sounds fun."

"What's the matter?"

"Mom's out of rehab and wants to see me."

"I see."

"You didn't know?"

"No."

I laughed. I should have known better than to think that William would tell
anything about anything.  Here, I thought, Tony was saying he was going to
Philadelphia to get me to agree to go, and see my mother -- I cringed at the
thought of calling her mother. Marie was my mother. The only mother I had
ever truly known.  But, what to call her, this woman that gave me birth?
The word escaped me -- I should have known that Tony would never play a game
like that with me.  He didn't tell me everything but he was never indirect
with me.

I lay on his lap and he stroked my back and shoulders.  I wanted to be
comforted.  I wanted to forget there was anything but the way he made me
feel.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" I asked.

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes. I need you."

*****


Donna struck the match and brought it to the cigarette hanging between her
lips. She inhaled, and then blow out the match with smoke.  She'd told
herself that she would go to third period today.  She was only going to have
a quick smoke, and then, she would go to class. That was two smokes ago.  It
was too late now, she told herself. Besides, she really didn't want to
answer the stupid questions the teacher would ask.

It wasn't that she couldn't keep up in class.  It wasn't that she didn't
like the teacher, she did.  It was something else, something that she
couldn't put her finger on. Whatever it was, it kept her up again last
night.  She listened to the sounds of Marcy's peaceful breathing, for as
long as she could stand, before climbing out on the roof of the two-story,
continental style, house that she called home.

Her foster parents, she knew, would have heart attacks if they knew of her
habit of climbing out on the roof, after everyone was asleep. They would
roll over in their graves if they knew she smoked. Climbing on the roof,
close to heaven, above the dangers of the streets, creating peaceful clouds
with her smoke: these were her two escapes.

She had grown into a beautiful girl. The last year of pampered normalcy
agreed with her. The body of a well-fed, middle class twelve-year-old now
replaced the skeletal third world frame, which hampered her beauty.  If it
weren't for the scowl that she wore, except for fleeting moments of
forgetfulness, you would have thought her a normal suburbanite kid, without
a care in the world, with no baggage to carry.

She inhaled again, sucking more smoke in her lungs.

Donna knew she had baggage.  She could still feel Chuck crawling over her
body, touching her, penetrating her.  She could smell his breath and taste
his tongue. She remembered the surprise of her first orgasm and the shame
that followed. These things she could handle.  The social workers and
psychologist all said she still had issues. Issues? Donna laughed and
flicked the cigarette to the ground, and crushed it under toe.  Issues.
Yeah, I suppose I do have issues. But they are not the issues they think I
have.

She bushed lent from the new jeans she was wearing.  Once a month, a new
package arrived with new clothes for Donna and Marcy.  Well, there would
also be clothes for Susan and Chrissy. But everyone knew the packages were
really for Donna and Marcy. They started arriving shortly after they visited
Kevin.  There was never a note.  Just a big box addressed to the house, and
inside four smaller boxes -- one with each of the girl's name on it.

Donna knew immediately that the packages were from Marie.  Her foster
mother, Mrs. Coleman, made a point of saying that she had no access to Donna
or Marcy's trust funds, and would never spend their money without their
permission, anyway. Donna thought it a foolish statement. Why would anyone
send UPS boxes of clothes to their own address? Besides, she and Marcy
always got one or two more items than the Coleman kids, and the things they
got were always just a little bit better quality.  It was Marie.  Donna
knew.

A bell rang.  Third period was over.  Soon the rest of the smokers would be
sneaking away to this spot.  She didn't mind. Most of them talked to her.
But they didn't really include her into the circle of outcast kids.  Donna
first thought it was because she didn't belong there, they looked down at
her -- she was a poor kid from the streets.  These were suburbanite kids,
born with silver spoons up their collective asses. -- but she slowly began to
realize that they thought she was the rich kid. She laughed.

But she could see their point.  Most of them got their new school clothes at
the beginning of the year.  By the end of the first month of school,
everyone knew what was in everyone else's closet. Everyone's closet except
the Geer and Coleman kids.  They kept coming to school in new clothes,
clothes you couldn't find just anywhere -- they didn't wear JC Penny's or Gap
or... or...

Donna laughed. She had never worried about clothes, even when she didn't
have them. Now that she had clothes, it still didn't seem like anything to
worry about. She wore what Marie sent, shrugged her shoulders when kids
asked where she got this or that, and smiled when teachers commented on how
well dressed she was.

"I tell them that my mom bought them for me," Marcy told her one night.

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't know."

"You know that they come from Marie."

"I know. That's why I say it."

"Don't get your hopes up about her coming to get you. She won't and then
you'll feel bad."

Marcy had turned away, and covered her head with the fluffy down cover,
embroidered with a picture of Disney's Cinderella -- another gift from a box.

"She will come," she muttered.

Donna sat on the roof that night, smoking her cigarette, with tears in her
eyes, looking to the northwest and pleading, praying, for Marcy to be right.
As time passed, the boxes continued to come, proving to Marcy that, one day
soon, Marie would appear, like a magic fairy godmother, dancing through the
door, to take them to live happily ever after The boxes proved to Donna that
Marie wouldn't come.

"What's up Donna?"

Donna eyed Matthew Perkins with cautious eyes.  He was always the first to
speak.  He was a cute boy, Donna admitted, and had an easy way about him.
He didn't seem to be concerned whether or not the other kids liked him or
not.  He was content to be a loner -- like Donna.

"Nothing really."

"You skip third again?" he asked with a knowing smile.

"Didn't mean too."

He laughed shaking his head.  Donna laughed too. It was one of those moments
that she was content to forget her baggage.

"You should smile more. You're really pretty when you smile."

He lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply. Donna knew when people said things
to come on to her, or because they were the right things to say at that
moment.  Matthew wasn't like that. He wasn't one for idle chitchat.  When he
spoke, everyone listened.  Not simply because he spoke so rarely but because
what he said usually had substance to it. She liked Matt. He caught her
staring at him.  She blushed.

"Well it's true. Maybe you haven't noticed but half the guys in school think
you're hot."

"Ha!" Donna laughed. She pulled another cigarette from her pack and put it
to her lips.  Matt step forward and lit it for her. She smiled.

"It's true Donna," he said stepping back and eyeing her, "The only reason no
one has asked you out is they're all to chicken shit."

Donna thought about the pairings she'd seen develop through the year.  It
was another social status ritual that she did not understand.  These kids
seem so concerned about things that didn't really matter to her. The other
smokers were filtering in, assembling into smaller packs of friends, talking
down about one or another of the non-smokers and teachers.  Donna would be
glad when the bell rang and they rushed off to class, melting back into the
mainstream of student life. She would skip forth today, maybe simply leave.

"So what do you say?"

"What?" she answered being drawn back to what Matt was saying.

"Will you go out with me?"

Donna smiled. She glanced at the other kids around them. There was not one
person in school that she could really call a close friend, male or female.
She liked Matt.  He was the first person in school to speak to her when she
transferred in.  He was the first person to speak to her each morning when
she came to school. He was the first person to ask her out.

"OK." She said.

"Cools."

He took the chain from around his neck and placed it around hers. They were
smiling at each other as the bell rang. The news would flash through the
school like wildfire.  Neither cared.

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