Date: Wed, 21 Aug 2013 15:43:11 +1030
From: Robert A. Armstrong <rob.aa@hotmail.com>
Subject: Schoolie - chapter 16

You know by that this is a work of pure fiction - just an expression of a
fantasy. The resemblance of my characters by action, name, location or
description to any real person is purely coincidental - if it seems to be
you, or somebody you know, I apologise.

If relationships between boys and men is not your scene, or if you're under
age, or if it is not legal for you to be reading this, then please leave,
now, before somebody finds out!

Otherwise, enjoy!


Chapter 16

It's two weeks since my `encounter' with Lilly. Will and I are still
exchanging our opinions of what should be Lilly's fate. If he says `the
stake', I counter with `lightning' and vice versa. Whenever any thought of
Lilly intrudes on my mind, a painful end for her seems to lighten my sombre
mood. I've not seen her since that day and Will has avoided going home.

This afternoon, however, he has told me that he wants to collect the last
of his belongings, only bits and pieces, so that there will be no remnant
of him, or anything of his, left in the house. He wants to effect a total
separation from her. `I'm over her. I've had enough.' he has said to me. He
tells me that he doesn't have much to pick up and that he should be back
here at the school in about 10 minutes.

After a quarter of an hour I peer out of the western windows but there is
still no sign of him. I'm starting to worry. I decide to drive over there
and get him. Just as I pass the pub, he comes running out of the shack
towards me. He opens the door, throws his single bag into the back and
slides into the passenger's seat. "Home, James," he says. I smirk. He
doesn't. Something is wrong. "Come on. Let's go," he says, agitated. I do
as he asks.

"Will, did something happen? What's up?"

He says in a quivering voice, "Tom, if I tell you, promise me that you
won't get angry."

"OK. What did she do to you?" I put to him, my voice no longer calm and
positive.

"I told her that I was getting the rest of my stuff and that I was never
coming back. We had a big argument and then she suddenly realised that I
was serious. I tried to ignore her yelling while I collected my
things. Then she asked if she could `play' with my little willie one last
time. When I yelled, `NO' and that I was going to tell my guardian angel
and he would make sure that she burnt in hell, she backed off. I screamed
at her that I would be better off with no mother than with her."

"Then she asked me if I thought my 'cute' guardian angel would let her play
with his willie instead. I told her that she was in a lot of trouble and to
`fuck off'. Then she just looked at me with puppy dog eyes and pleaded,
`can you please light the candles for your mummy?' She has candles for
light at night because there is no electricity. I told her that I would
light them one final time, but it would be the last thing that I ever did
for her. I lit them then I left."

"As I was going out of the door, she called out that she had a new
boyfriend with a big shiny Harley, and that he would look after her and
never let anything happen to her."

I pull off the road and turn off the ignition.

"What are you doing?" Will asks.

"I'm thinking, Will. And praying for a bolt of lightning!"

"It's OK, Tom. She will never bother us again, believe me." Then, changing
the subject completely, "Can we please get back to Marty's. I'd like to do
a bit of painting while the light is still right."

I start the car and drive. I'm mad at Lilly, but if painting will take
Will's mind off his mother, I'm happy to let it drop - for now.

Back at Marty's, although it is late afternoon, the sunlight is still
strong. I have seen the results of Will's artistic genius and even though I
have allowed him time at school to paint and draw, I've never actually
watched him do it - except for the drawing that he did of Kurt in which he
captured the shock and fear on his face for mistakenly grabbing me while I
was sitting under the weir.

I ask Will if I may watch him paint. While he seems a little hesitant
initially, he offers no reason why I shouldn't, and smilingly agrees. I
think his art work is a `private place' for Will. It always seems to be a
solace for him after an `encounter' with his mother. I feel honoured that
he would allow me to share this time with him.

I watch him set up a short distance from the house on the western side. The
building is almost glowing in the rich remnant of afternoon sunshine. I
fetch a stool and sit behind him, but not too close, so that I can see over
his right shoulder what he's doing without being intrusive.

He props his partially-done artwork on the easel and then begins to mix
some colours. I marvel at his deft brush strokes adding highlights and
refining details as he goes. He glances alternate continually between house
and canvas as he works. I think of offering words of encouragement but
leave him, undisturbed, to his thoughts and concentration. Occasionally he
looks back over his left shoulder in the direction of the village. Is he
regretting what he said to his mother? Or is he looking for a lightning
bolt?

I become aware of a flickering light on the side of my face and turn in the
direction of the river. The blades of the old metal windmill, silhouetted
against the setting sun are now at the point directly between the ball of
flame, and me, allowing rays of golden afternoon light to alternately
penetrate and be shut off as it turns slowly in the whisper of a westerly
breeze. This is an iconic picture in itself. Although I see the windmill
every day with its companion, the elevated water tank, I had never
contemplated its existence or purpose until just now. It was previously
just a nondescript part of the old paraphernalia that lies scattered around
the property.

Rising slowly so as not to disturb Will, I amble towards the turning blades
and the shadowed sides of the darkening river gums.

The windmill is a tall one. I look around more carefully and observe one
pipe stretching from its base down the river bank into the water. A steel
ladder forms an integral part of the structure, to allow access to the
blades and pump rods. High above, there is another pipe delivering short
gushes of water, with resonant regularity, into the water tank. This tank
is much higher than the one beside the back of the house, towards which yet
another pipe leads. I stand transfixed and almost mesmerised by the rhythm
of the turning windmill and pump, drawing water up from the river and
depositing it into the tank. The pump rod
moves. Down. Up. `Gush'. Down. Up. `Gush'.

Understanding some basic science, I can see how the base of this tank,
being higher than the top to the house tank, delivers water to the house
with a reliable pressure. So long as there is water in this tank, the house
tank will be full. I wonder how overflows might be prevented. Then I see
the tap to stop the water flowing, and the lever to isolate the blades of
the windmill and prevent it from turning and hence pumping. Smart. Old
technology, but still very effective.

I look towards Will and note the diminishing light on the house. He's
facing me, packing up his gear. He gives me a `thumbs-up' I walk back and
he shows me his work, explaining what he has added during the past 30
minutes. While parts of the picture seem complete, others have only the
outline of sections still to have detail added. I can see that he has even
included the two dogs. I also note what appear to be two vague shapes
inside the last window - our bedroom. I think of questioning him about them
but decide to wait and see what detail he adds at a later time.

Will smiles at me as I help him put his gear into the store room, making
sure that nothing is touching the wet paint. He throws his arms around me,
pulling me close, and whispers, "I really love you, Tom. I'd do anything
for you, you know." He gives me a quick peck on the cheek then heads out to
Marty in the kitchen before I have the chance to properly respond.

My heart jumps at the simplicity and sincerity of what just happened. I
pull the door shut and follow him. I sense that Will is in a strange mood -
how can I describe it? Excitedly apprehensive? It's as though he is
anticipating something, perhaps he expects to `get lucky' tonight. My cock
twitches, filling out a little more than I want Marty to see, so I head
straight to the bathroom to collect my thoughts and my `composure'.

After an early dinner, I go out to my car to retrieve some books and I
notice a strange glow in the sky, from the direction of the village. I rush
back inside and call out, "Marty, can you come and have a look at this
outside? There's some strange light coming from the direction of the
village and I can't quite make out what it is."

I dash back outside, with Marty and Will close behind me. I can now discern
something that looks like smoke, illuminated from below and grey against
the deepening purple sky. "Fire!" Marty shouts. "Come on. They may need
help." He rushes through the house and then I hear his SUV rev up. He pulls
up next to us. I jump in next to Marty and Will slides into the back seat,
without making any comment.

"What do you think it is?" I ask. `Stupid question!' I chastise myself as
the words leave my mouth. As if Marty could tell from here!

"Not sure yet." He responds, "but there's not too many buildings in the
village. Perhaps it's a grass fire. Regardless, I've just put my two fire
extinguishers in the back in case they can be of some use

We negotiate the bumps on the track and reach the main road. As we speed
towards the village, it becomes obvious that it is to the left side of the
village, so that eliminates the pub, the school and the church. `Oh, shit'
I think. `I hope it is only a grass fire and not either of the two houses.'

We draw closer to the intersection and my heart sinks. It's bigger than a
grass fire and it is coming from the western end of the street - Will's
place. As we turn the corner, I gasp and turn to look at Will to gauge his
reaction. Just stunned silence. My eyes immediately well up with tears. I
wish I was in the back with him so that I could comfort him.

There is a small crowd, including possible pub patrons, on the track
looking at the house as Marty pulls the SUV to a sudden halt. I can feel
the intensity of the heat through the windscreen even without opening my
door. Marty jumps out and it's obvious that his fire extinguishers will be
of little use. He holds up his arm to protect his face from the direct
heat. Some of the people who are held back by the extreme temperature are
holding extinguishers but either they can't get close enough to use them,
or they have already tried unsuccessfully to douse the flames.

There is very little of the structure remaining. Not much now except a mass
of white hot wood and roofing iron. No walls. The shack has collapsed
inwards on itself and looks like a well-stacked bonfire. The flames are red
and bright yellow with tinges of blue and green high up at their tips.

Although I instantly wonder whether Lilly was able to get out or not, my
immediate concern is for Will's emotional state. I jump out and pull open
his door. He is just sitting, staring through the windscreen at what used
to be his home, with silent tears streaming down his face. I turn and scan
the faces that are illuminated by the fire, hoping desperately to spot
Will's mum, but `the witch' is nowhere among them. I look at Will and what
goes through my mind is, `No father, no mother, no home.' I ponder that
Will has effectively gone from an abused child to a homeless orphan and I
am unable to stem the overflow of my own silent tears.

I slide into the back seat next to Will, fully expecting him to throw his
arms around me and begin to wail and sob. But he doesn't. He appears
transfixed by the flames and, apart from the tears flooding down his cheeks
and dripping from his chin, there is no movement from him at all. It's
almost as though he does not even acknowledge my presence. Karl and Kurt
come over to the car to offer sympathetic words to Will, but even their
presence does not stir him. They look at me questioningly. All I can say
is, "Thanks, guys, but I think this is not a good time. Maybe tomorrow."
Each of the twins now appears to become genuinely upset - more at Will's
condition than, perhaps, at the fire and the loss of his mother. They go
back and stand with a tall, solid man whom I take to be their father. They
each cling to him and lean their heads against his chest. He extends an arm
around each of their shoulders and pulls them close to him. I can see where
they get their handsome features from, and I am amazed that he looks so
much younger than I had expected. Judging by the age of the twins, he has
to be at least in his thirties, and yet he appears not much older than
Marty. I can't help but wonder how young and horny he was when the twins
were conceived. Perhaps good looks aren't all that Karl and Kurt have
inherited.

I put my arms around Will, one around his shoulders and the other across
his chest, but he remains almost rigid. His condition is scaring me. Marty
comes to the door. "Tom, one of the hotel patrons said he got through to
Chad at the police station on his satellite phone. Chad's on his way out
now, and will probably bring Sean with him. Why don't you take Will home?
There's nothing that either of you can do here. I think staying may only
upset him more. And, oh, Reg is over there. He has suggested cancelling
school for tomorrow, seeing that it's Friday. He said that he would let all
the other families know. What do you think?"

Although I hadn't thought of tomorrow yet, it's a sensible suggestion and I
ask Marty to tell Reg `thank you' and `yes, please let the others know that
there will be no school until Monday'."

Marty tells me that he'll stay and wait for Chad and Sean and will get them
to drop him home. I suggest that it would be a good idea for Sean to check
Will over as well. He may have something that he can give to Will. I'm no
doctor, but the boy is obviously in shock, and some medication might
help. Marty heads back to talk to Reg. I see him now. I ask Will if he
wants to sit up front with me. No reaction. OK! I close the door and walk
around to the driver's side.

It doesn't take long to get home. Will hasn't moved. I open his door, put
my arms around him and say quietly, "Come on mate. Let's get you
inside. For a moment there is no response, but then he slowly turns his
eyes towards me and extends to me his hand, like a trusting toddler, and he
lets me lead him indoors. I take him straight to our room. He just stands
there, with his hands limp by his side. I move close to him, pressing my
body against his, wrap my arms around him and rub his back. He suddenly
lets out an ear-piercing wail and grabs me so tightly that I can hardly
breathe.

I release my arms, but Will doesn't. He cries out, "No! No! No, Tom! Don't
let me go! Don't go! Don't leave me now!"

"Will, I've told you that I'm here for you, for as long as you want me to
be." Will is shaking, almost shivering, more I suspect from fear and
anxiety than from the night air. I wrap my arms around him again and
squeeze him really hard. I hear some of his vertebrae give a loud cracking
sound - nothing serious, just like cracking your knuckles. I whisper
breathily, "Nice, Will. You're squeezing the life out of me and I'm
breaking your back. We're gonna kill each other." I regret using the
`killing' word as soon as I speak it. However, my comment breaks the
tenseness of the situation.

Will relaxes enough to say, "All you're gonna break is my heart, you
know. My dad's gone - I never knew him. My mum's gone, and I hate her for
what she did, and now I've finally gotten rid of her. But the only person I
have ever loved is still here. Don't you ever leave me Tom. You are really
all I have and all I want. I would do anything for you." That's
strange. It's the second time that Will has said that.

"Do you really love me, Will?" I ask quietly, with sincerity.

"Yes! I love you. I mean it Tom. I feel it... in here." He releases one of
his hands and places it over his heart. "And in here," pointing to his
head. Then moving his hand between our bodies and sliding it between his
crotch and mine so that he can touch us both at the same time, he adds
softly, "and definitely here." I make no move to pull away and just feel
Will's body relax a little more. Besides, I really like the feeling of the
slight movement of his hand brushing back and forth across my flaccid meat,
as though he's discovering it for the first time. Relishing the feeling, it
doesn't stay limp for long. It gradually broadens and lengthens and
hardens. "And I think that Junior loves me too!" he adds.

I want to lighten his mood. "You mean that you love me like you love
pancakes, right?"

He smiles. "Hmmm. Yes, I do. And more."

"You love me like you love painting, then?"

"Yes, but much more."

"You love me like your own brother?"

"Especially like a brother, but even more than that. I love you like..." He
stops short then he just start to cry. Not just sniffling, but actual
crying. Breath-catching, and blubbering, and floods of tears. His
heart-wrenching emotions affect mine.

I know that Will has opened his heart to me. Having previously told me that
he is gay, he has a right to be loved, and to love. I am the object of his
love and he acknowledges me as the potential source of the love to meet his
need.

OMG. What do I say? "Will, listen to me. This has been coming for a long
time, hasn't it? It's not just because your father and your mother and your
home have all gone, is it? We connect, you and I, don't we?"

"Yes, Tom."

"Then let me share something with you, Mr William O'Brien. But... house
rule! Nobody else must ever hear this - not Marty, not Jake, not Karl or
Kurt, no one!"

"I promise," he whispers back as he starts to rock his body against mine -
ever so slightly but noticeably and nervously. I continue...

"Will, I came to this little town, in the middle of nowhere, looking
forward to the opportunity to establish myself as the best professional
teacher that I could possibly be. I could not even have imagined that on my
very first day, I would meet somebody who would turn my life upside down. I
met you, Will. You've changed my life. It can never, ever, be the same
again. I was hoping that I might meet a farmer's daughter, fall in love and
forever dispel my attraction to other guys. I desperately wanted to be
`normal', to have kids and to get all my friends off my back about me being
a sports star who could never get laid! Do you know what my nickname was?
`Virginia'. Think about it. It was as much of a pain for me as the name
`Little Willie' was for you, I'm sure." Will smirks a knowing, agreeing
smirk.

"So, you're still a virgin, too, eh?" he smirks.

"Yeh, I've played in bed with a few people, male and female, but I never
felt for them what I feel for you and I didn't do with any of them what I
really want to do with you. But that, in itself, poses a huge conflict for
me. What I feel for you and what I want to do is totally unprofessional for
a teacher. I have already crossed so many lines that I've jeopardised my
teaching career and risked landing in jail. And yet, my attraction to you
is so strong that I would give teaching away if I had the means to support
us both."

"The bottom line is, I can't love you right now the way you want me to and
the way I want to, while, at the same time continuing to be your
teacher. Something's got to give! It's driving me insane with worry. My
head says, `walk away'. My heart won't let me! But, right now, Will, I just
want you to know that I'm so sorry about your mother and your house and
that I'm here for you. I'll look after you. And I'll love you the best way
that I can, and I give you this assurance. I will endeavour to persuade my
parents to adopt you officially and the day that you become my brother I
solemnly promise that we will make passionate love in every way that you
want. Full on."

I can tell from the warm wetness on my shoulder that Will is crying again -
silently but surely. Is he happy, or have I really upset him which would be
the opposite of what I wanted? He lets go of me and almost throws himself
on his bed and curls into a foetal position with his back to me, with his
hands covering his face.

So, this is the defining moment. Should I leave him to lament the cruel
hand that fate has dealt him, or should I commit to loving him, whatever
the consequences? Is my promise so empty that he thinks it's impossible
that he and I will ever go all the way? I take a step backwards and look at
the pathetic scene before me - at the young man who could be my younger
brother. My head hurts and my heart is pounding. I step back again and
observe the erratic rise and fall of his back as he attempts to breathe
while crying what may be the deepest sorrow of his seventeen years -
unfulfilled love.

Ultimately there is only one choice that I can make - love above law! I
move to his bed and lay myself behind him, nudging him over a little. I
spoon up to him, cradling his firm backside into my lap. I drape my free
arm over his body and pull us both closer together. "I love you William
O'Brien," is all that I can muster as I allow my own tears run sideways
across my face and into his hair.

With his next breath, Will's sorrow becomes very vocal - unashamed
crying. He turns within my grasp, wraps his arms around me, raises his head
and places his tearful cheek upon mine. "Thank you. I love you too, Thomas
Grant." He has never used my full name previously. This is something
special for him... and for me. At this moment we are not teacher and
student; we are equals in love. He begins to kiss me passionately, and I
reciprocate, willingly and unrestrainedly. While I feel the meat of his
groin pressing against mine, neither of us is hard, but semi-hard is very
erotic. However, this is not a sexual instance - it's a moment of love. We
share the blissful embrace and relax into each other's arms, drifting off
to sleep.

Some time later I am roused by the dogs barking. I realise that Marty, Chad
and Sean are coming. I ease myself off Will's bed. He is now in a deep
sleep. I cover him and go to the bathroom to wash my face. Walking quietly
into the kitchen I turn on the electric jug, ever ready with water for a
quick tea or coffee, just as the three brothers come through the
door. Chad, Sean and I greet each other and I offer to make the
coffees. Their faces are serious, but not grim.

Sean speaks first, "How's the boy?"

"Sleeping at the moment," I reply. "I'm not sure what's going through his
mind, but he is certainly distressed. He took quite a bit of comforting,
and it took a while for him to snap out of his stupor then he cried a lot
before drifting off.

"Sleep is a good thing for the body. I'll leave you something for him to
take over the next few days that should help. But, at the moment, Chad
would like to speak with him, if he can manage it.

Chad says,"Yes, Tom, there's a couple of things that I need to talk to
William about." As if on cue in a TV soapie or melodrama, Will's peeping
face appears at the corner of the wall. I can see him but the others have
their back towards that part of the room. Chad continues, "Tom, I'm sure
that this will be difficult for him, but I was able to determine that the
fire was deliberately lit. It was no accident."

I look at Will's face and see horror. But instead of looking to me for
support, he avoids my eyes, looks down and bursts into tears, then runs
back into our room and slams the door hard enough for the reverberations to
be felt through the house.

Startled by his presence, Chad says, "I'm sorry. I didn't know he was
listening, or I would have broken it to him more gently." He gets up to
follow Will.

"Chad, let me. Please." I ask. He nods, sits back down and takes another
swig of his coffee.

I open our door and then close it again behind me.

Will is pacing up and down, almost frantically. When he sees me he flings
his arms around me and cries, "Oh, Tom. I'm so sorry. I've ruined
everything now."

I try to comfort him. "Will. What do you mean? You've done nothing wrong."

"Yes, I did. Now I'm going to lose you too." Then he wails and just clings
to me.

Suddenly... my less-than-sharp-when-necessary brain recalls a number of his
words and strings them together:

* I'd do anything for you, Tom

* I lit some candles for her

* I told her it would be the last thing that I would ever do for her

* I've finally gotten rid of her

* Burnt at the stake

* Burn in hell

As I ponder Will's words, now in the context of events, I feel my eyes
dilate and my bottom lip starts to quiver. I hope, against all the odds,
that I've joined the dots wrongly. I feel great compassion for him, but I
have to ask the obvious question.

I raise my arms around him and hug him tightly to me with one while rubbing
his back with the other. "Will, tell me where you put the candles that you
lit for your mother."

He sobs, pauses, takes a deep breath and manages, "One on the little table
near her chair. One in the kitchen area. And one... under... her bed."

"Oh, Will," is all that I can manage.

While continuing to rub his back, dozens of scenarios and their
consequences flash through my head.

I determine that the best defence will be to go on the offensive - disclose
Lilly's abuse of him, and claim extreme provocation. Chad will think of
something!

I encourage Will to come out with me and to `face the music'. I cannot
abandon him, whatever happens, and I remind him of my love for him with a
kiss.

A knock at the door. "Guys, it's Sean. May I come in?" I give Will a tight
squeeze, tell him that it will all work out, then step back.

"Yes, Sean, come in." He's carrying a glass of water.

"Here, young fella. Take this. It'll help." He gives a capsule and the
water to Will who downs it without question. Sean continues, "I think that
you'd both better come and hear what Chad has to say." He smiles at Will
and says, "it's OK little cousin. We'll look after you. That's what family
is for. Plus, you've got Mr Grant who seems to have taken a liking to you
as well." Then he leaves the door open as he returns to the lounge area.

I'm not sure what Sean means by that. Hopefully the only thing that Marty
has observed and told his brothers is how helpful I've been to Will and how
responsive he has been. Did I let my guard down at any time?

I put my arm around Will's shoulder and urge him towards the doorway with
me. He looks an absolute misery. I give him a squeeze and leave my arm in
place as we go to confront the law.

Marty and Chad are seated at the table, drinking their coffee. Chad motions
for Will to sit down and passes him a mug, then speaks. "William, I know
that this is going to be hard for you." Will's eyes are full of tears and
he is starting to tremble. I move to stand behind Will to support him, and
lightly massage his shoulders. Man, is he tense!

Chad continues, "After the fire died down, all the people with fire
extinguishers combined to put it out. Then I had to do one of the most
unpleasant tasks for a cop - check for a body, and possible causes of the
fire. With just a little checking, it was obvious to me that the fire had
been deliberately lit."

Suddenly, and questioning why my ever-slow brain hadn't thought of it
sooner, it comes to me, `how could a candle be found after an inferno?
Surely it would all have melted, with the other two and combined with the
ashes of everything else in the house. There should have been little, if
any, trace of it, as evidence. Then Chad's revelation.

"I was able to tell that petrol had been used to start the fire. A lot of
petrol, so that it would catch quickly. The smell was still there even
after the flames had all been extinguished."

Will turns and looks at me, his mouth open as if wanting to say
something. The look of horror on his face is no longer one of fear, but of
both confusion and, yes, relief. He bursts into tears. This time, Marty
gets up to comfort Will, taking my place behind him and putting his arms
around his cousin's chest.

Chad continues further. "And the good news is... that there was no body. I
mean, I expected to find your mother's body, but there was none.

I am stunned. "What does that mean? Lilly wasn't in the house when it burnt
down?"

Marty takes up the commentary, "Apparently, Lilly had been flirting earlier
with some out-of-town dude, according to some of the patrons at the pub,
and went riding with him on the back of his bike. Apparently she did not
come back. So her whereabouts are still a mystery and so is the cause of
the fire. But we do know that she wasn't in the house."

Chad says that he needs to get back into town to `do some paperwork', but
will be back later tomorrow to investigate more fully, including the
necessity to interview everyone who may have seen anything earlier in the
day.

I think for a moment. Lilly isn't, or may not be, dead, but she is still
not here for her son. Perhaps she has eloped or gone off on a spree.
Hopefully, she hasn't met with foul play at the hands of one or a number of
'undesirables'. I'm not sure how Will is going to take this news once he
thinks it through. He may be happy that she wasn't killed, or it could make
him worse, knowing that she has literally left him to his own devices,
intentionally abandoning him. And how will that affect my plan for my
parents to adopt Will if his mother is still alive? And what of my promise
to `go all the way' with him the day he becomes my brother? Would its
seeming unlikelihood make Will even more miserable? And me, too?

I need to find another legitimising reason for making love to Will! Or is
mutual passion simply enough? Then the only questions would be, `When?' and
`Where?'



To be continued...

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