Date: Sun, 16 Aug 1998 02:17:56 +0100
From: Dean Lidster <dean@deans-domain.nu>
Subject: The Exchange
T H E E X C H A N G E
by Dean Lidster
=======================================================================
PART ONE
(Chapters one to seven)
DISCLAIMER
~~~~~~~~~~
This story contains sexual acts between boys. If this is not to your
tastes, then why in God's name are you reading this in the first place,
huh? If you're curious, then that's fine by me - just remember: an open
mind and an open heart is the secret to a good and happy life. If you
are UNDER the age of concent for state / geographical location / planet
that you're in / on etc, please leave now (unless you want to be
educated and have an open mind that is!)
I spose this story is copyrighted. By this, I mean that I wrote it and
would not particularly want anyone to subtly alter it and pretend it
is their own. However, you MAY post it to any newsgroups, archives
etc, print it, give it to friends without my prior permission PROVIDED
THAT I STAY ACCREDITED AS THE AUTHOR AND YOU DO NOT CHARGE FOR DOING
SO. Easy :-)
The story is fiction, and whilst there are references to real live
people in here, none of this took place outside of my hormone-driven
mind...
If you like this story, mail me at dean@deans-domain.nu. If you don't
like it, mail me anyway and tell me why!
The latest version of this saga may be found at my web site:
http://www.deans-domain.nu/ourplace/stories
Cheers,
Dean
Dedicated to Lee - I will love you forever.
CHAPTER ONE
I was excited. There was no other way of putting it. It was the
Monday in the second week in January and I was getting ready to go
back to school. Normally, this is cause for much feet-dragging but
this time I didn't mind one bit, This was because I had one very good
incentive which happened to be about 5'7", have long blond hair and a
smile to die for, not to mention a really cute little brother and a
hunky older one. And I'd be with them for the next FOUR WEEKS!
Somehow, my headmaster (who I now thought was an even greater guy
than before) had managed to arrange an exchange between my English
public school in Derbyshire with Tay's high school over in Tulsa. All
this had been agreed in the car park of the NEC in Birmingham some
weeks previously when Walker and Diane Hanson had turned up the day
after the concert, their flight having been delayed. (Just for those
who want to know, the rest of that week went very well indeed - Tay
took me to a recording session at a studio in Birmingham where we
somehow ended up making out on the mixing desk...)
Anyway, it was Saturday afternoon and I was nervously awaiting the
arrival of my boyfriend (we'd now made it official - telephone
numbers and e-mail addresses had been swapped along with various
bodily fluids) and his two brothers. Communication had been good this
time over the last few weeks - thanks to the internet and a
conferencing tool that comes bundled with a certain web browser (I'm
not naming names here!) long distance phone calls had been avoided,
the only drawback being the time difference between the countries.
I heard the dog start to go ballistic outside and my heart skipped a
beat. I legged it downstairs and out the front door to see a taxi
(driven by someone strongly resembling Apu from the Simpsons) pull
into the drive. Tay leapt out of the back and ran into my arms,
hugging and kissing me. Ike levered himself out of the passenger seat
at the front complaining that his seat wouldn't adjust so he had to
sit in a space designed for a pygmy... Zac leapt out of the back,
full of energy, and wolf-whistled at me and Tay.
"Shuddup, dip-shit,"
"Make me, lover-boy," taunted Zac.
"YOU ARE SO DEAD!!" Tay broke the hug and sprinted off after Zac
round the garden, the dog going wild in his pen. Ike took the
opportunity to pay the taxi driver and give me a hug and a peck on
the cheek. He seemed so much happier and at ease with life than I
remembered, and seeing the laugh-lines round his eyes once more made
me smile too.
Zac and Tay, meanwhile, were still racing around on the lawn making a
suitable amount of noise. Tay was gaining on Zac and an untied
shoelace allowed the capture - Zac tripped and landed flat on his
stomach. Tay, unable to avoid his brother, fell directly on top of
him, knocking the wind out of both. Tay gave Zac a noogie for good
luck and walked back over to me.
We unloaded their bags from the taxi and dragged them inside.
"You tired after your flight?"
"Aw, man, you wouldn't believe it - there were about a hundred kids
on our flight, all of them as hyper as Zac. Rest was not an
option..."
"Well, there's no rest for the wicked - we've got to go uniform
shopping now..."
My parents greeted Ike, Tay and Zac with renewed enthusiasm - they
hadn't quite known who they were (shock horror!) last time they met,
and were now suitably awe-struck. However, once they realised that
they were really just fairly regular kids, they settled down a bit.
We all then piled into our Discovery and headed for town and the rip-
off merchants that stocked the uniform...
My dad dropped us off right in front of the shop so we didn't have to
walk through the shopping area without the comfort of Kevin lumbering
around behind us. We walked into the shop and announced our
intentions to the shop assistant, who pointed us upstairs. As we
walked up the large, supposedly elegant flight of stairs, a
conversation between two of the girls behind a counter stopped dead.
We did our best to ignore them and I guided them round to the uniform
section, and loaded them up with the regulation maroon polo neck
jumper, green V-neck, tie, white shirts, trousers and black shoes.
I suggested they all go try their new clothes as the sizes given
were, from experience, more guidelines than sizes. Each of the
brothers disappeared into a changing booth. A few minutes later, Tay
emerged wearing the maroon poloneck. Surprisingly, it all fitted
fairly well, the trousers just being slightly too long in the leg.
"It's actually quite comfy. You sure you don't have to wear the tie?"
"Only if you want to wear the V-neck. There is one disadvantage with
this uniform," I said, moving closer to him and checking that no one
was watching.
"Yeah? What's that?"
I grabbed his crotch and rubbed him gently through the thin material,
and immediately felt him start to get hard as he groaned ever so
slightly. A few moments later when he had a proper hardon, I turned
him round so he could see himself in a full length mirror.
"That," I said, pointing to the most noticeable hard-on bulge in
history. It really was not funny how obvious these trousers made it,
and to make matters worse the pockets weren't deep enough to adjust
yourself...
"Oh great," said Tay. "How am I gonna survive this if I'm gonna be
sat next to you all day? All I have to do is look at you and I pop a
woodie..."
"I'm the same," I said. "Just be aware of it. The only real way to
get round it is to trap it under the waistband of your boxers..."
Zac and Ike then emerged from the other two changing rooms. Again
Ike's fitted him fairly well and for once someone looked good in that
idiotic green V-neck and tie, but Zac was absolutely swamped, the
trousers barely holding onto his hips and the jumper sleeves about
two inches too long. I took Zac, found a shop assistant (one of the
gawping girls) and asked if they had the jumper and trousers a couple
of sizes down.
"Helloooo? Jumper. Pants. Too big. Need smaller." he said to the non-
responsive shop assistant in his "retard" voice he reserved for such
occasions.
"Oh, er, one moment, sir..." she stuttered and vanished into the
stock room, only to reappear a moment later. "Pants?" she asked,
blushing slightly.
"Pants, trousers, whatever..." said Zac, waving the legs of the
ridiculously large pair he was wearing at the moment.
"Oh, sorry," she smiled shyly, and disappeared again.
"Geez, you'd have thought they'd never served a customer before,"
smiled Zac, putting on the zombie-like expression the assistant had.
Once we'd managed to get everyone suitably kited out, we took the
whole lot to the desk to find what the damage was, and Ike sheepishly
produced a rather new looking credit card. "Mom forced me to have it.
She said I may need it in 'emergencies'."
"Excuse me, sir, are you Dean Lidster?"
"Uh, yeah," I replied, either shocked that I was known here.
"Your headmaster called saying your school will be footing the bill
for this as part of the exchange. You don't need to pay..."
Ike looked rather relieved as the display on the cash register read
_324.87. It would've been a lot for just a fortnight's stay, but the
school is very picky in that aspect. However, they had also said that
they weren't too picky about games kit - the Hansons could use
whatever they had. This was quite unusual as games kit was actually
considered school uniform and had to be worn "correctly" when
required (e.g. PLAIN white T-shirt and white shorts for indoor games,
school issue reversible top and blue shorts for outdoor games etc.)
Anyway, shopping completed we headed back to the car, laden with
shit-coloured plastic bags full of tasteless school uniform. When we
got back home, I ran over a bit of what they could expect from the
school, both good and bad.
A fifteen hour day is about the norm, getting up at about half six to
seven o'clock, having a shower and then walking up from the boarding
houses to the school itself to catch breakfast. Zac had it easy here
as he was to be in the Junior Boys' house, which was actually on site
- no mile-and-a-half walk for him...
After breakfast, the whole school did a ten-minute clean-up of the
school, each pupil being given his own specific area that was his or
her responsibility. Then straight into chapel where, if you were
lucky, you could catch up on the twenty minutes' sleep you felt you
should have had in bed this morning as opposed to walking in to
school.
After chapel were the first three lessons, all forty minutes each,
taking you up to eleven o'clock and morning break. Catch a quick
drink and a biscuit, and twenty minutes later you're into periods
four and five. After that a fairly decent hour and a half for a
fairly indecent lunch and some free time.
Two o'clock and you're back to work for the next two hours, breaking
at ten past four for another drink and biscuit. Twenty to five and
another two lessons until six. An hour for an evening meal and a
little free time and then (no, we're not finished yet) "assignments"
until half past eight where you do any work set for you during the
day / on previous days (it's supervised and no talking's allowed).
And, just to round things off, a nice mile and a half amble back to
your boarding house. A little TV and believe me you're quite ready
for bed at half nine.
Ike, Tay and Zac just sat on my bed, jaws virtually on the floor
wondering what the hell they'd let themselves in for.
"And we do this EVERY day?" asked Tay after a moment's silence.
"You get a half-day on Wednesdays and Saturdays when you can wear
your own clothes and do pretty well what you want. Then again that's
when we play games fixtures against other schools, so if you're in a
team you loose most of your free time. You don't need to worry about
weekends, though. You can come home with me if you want..." I said,
evil grin on my face.
"So when do we leave?" asked Ike, still looking apprehensive.
"This afternoon at about three. The earlier you leave the better the
bed you get! I don't know who they'll have assigned to you as a Guide
though. I tried to get you into my house, but there was only room for
one of you. Don't worry, though, someone'll take you on!
"Zac, Gareth should be there already so you'll be VERY well looked
after... Just remember, most of us area friendly bunch and if you
have any probs, just ask! We don't have 'freshmen' as such - just be
yourself.
"Oh, and remember to take your rollerblades - they make the walk up
in the evening so much quicker! AND SMILE!! You won't be made to work
_that_ hard..."
CHAPTER TWO
We all piled into the car, complete with luggage, and set off towards
the school. My mum'd wanted to come with us (she really just wanted
to say "Good bye" to me, even if it was just for a week) but as our
required passenger list stated three Hansons, one Lidster junior and
a driver (my dad) there was no room...
After the initial shock of the routine I'd described to them earlier,
my dad and myself filled them in on some of the more appealing
aspects of the school: the outdoor activities, its location, the
outdoor activities... Soon enough we were all happily chatting to one
another as we tanked along the A50 from Derby: Ike, Tay and Zac
filling my dad in on the finer points of "life on the road", me
filling them in on some of the more (non 'R' rated) amusing incidents
that can happen in a boarding school.
We soon arrived in "The Village" and drove round to Holmfield House,
Ike's home for the next fourteen days or so. I introduced him to Mr.
Jaykes his housemaster (a youngish guy - mid twenties I'd say) and
they seemed to hit it off right away. Jaykesie was an amiable bloke
to start with, but cross him and you knew about it. No such problem
with Ike - they both warmed to each other and we said our temporary
good-byes, Zac doing his "I love you, man..." and breaking down into
tears routine.
We all climbed back into the car and headed for the main school
itself where the Junior Boys' house was. As we pulled up outside,
Russell strutted out with Gareth in tow, obviously under duress as he
was being suspiciously calm and subdued about his boyfriend turning
up. My dad, having had run-ins with Russell when I was a junior,
recognised all his tricks and deceptive tactics and knew this one by
heart. He strode over to him, grabbed his hand and shook it
vigorously whilst simultaneously giving him a barrage of questions to
deal with, subtly guiding him away from the house entrance to the
garden. Zac and Gareth jumped at the opportunity he'd provided,
giving each other a much warmer welcome than they "should" do. They
broke apart as we heard my dad's voice coming closer and Gareth
grabbed Zac's hand, pulling him into the house.
"You want us to get your case?" I yelled sarcastically after them.
"Please," came Gareth's muffled reply on behalf of Zac who, by the
sounds of things, had his mouth as well as his hands full.
I cast my eyes heavenwards and then looked at Tay apologetically.
"I get caught just the same way. Zac gets so engrossed he just
doesn't think. Actually, 'Just doesn't think' will do fine..."
We each grabbed an end to Zac's trunk and heaved it out of the back
of the car.
"What the fuck has he got in here? It weighs a ton!"
"I think we'll have to unpack for him," decided Tay as we struggled
the trunk into the house, up a flight of stairs and into their dorm.
We found them joined at the lips, them flying apart as we walked in."
"Yeah, you'd better practice that one - Russell's a crafty sod..."
"OK, Zac, spill it. What you got in here?" asked Tay, undoing the
second button on his shirt.
"Like you told me - just the essentials."
"Like hell," said Tay, flipping open the lid to reveal a surprisingly
well packed trunk, considering it was Zac that'd packed it.
"OK, two pairs of school pants, white shirts, one pair of black
shoes..." Zac smiled smugly as Tay couldn't find anything out of the
ordinary. "And what's this? TWO pairs of rollerblades?"
"Gareth said he didn't have any..."
"An N64 joypad, complete with rumblepack - MY rumblepack..."
"Tay, you, uh, don't wanna..."
"Well shit me, look what it's attached to - OUR N64! You brought this
all the way from the states? Without asking me?"
Zac just nodded.
"Well, as long as it's here," said Tay, pulling it and a large
carrier bag of game carts from under Zac's clothes, "Dean and I get
first go. At OUR house!"
"Aw, c'mon, Tay..." said Zac, putting on his best 'I'm da baby -
gotta love me' look. It didn't wash.
"You can have it on Thursday."
"THURSDAY? That's over half the week!"
Tay grinned at me. "He's good, ya know. Won his grade's math prize
two years running..."
Zac was just about to retaliate when Mr. Russell came striding
through the door.
"Ah, Gareth, I'm glad to see you've got Zachary started already. Very
good indeed. As for you, Mr. Lidster, you should know better having
been here longer - You know you're not allowed in other boys' houses
without asking permission first. Now I'll let it slip this time, but
I won't be so lenient in the future. Clear?"
"Crystal, sir." He looked at me from the corner of his eye, trying to
figure out if I was being comical, but my well-practiced ultra-
sincere expression fooled him.
"Right - say your good-byes, Zachary. You can see your brother
tomorrow at breakfast."
"See ya, butt features," grinned Zac, who promptly got glared by
Russell.
"Eat me," retorted Tay, following me out the door. "Geez, that guy's
a tight ass," commented Tay as we set off into the village to take us
both to River House.
"Count yourself lucky you met him on a good day," said my dad. "He
gets worse, to the parents, too..."
We pulled up outside River House and Tay and I dragged our cases from
the car. My dad leant out of the driver's window. "Now, I'm under
orders from your mother to say this - Be good, both of you..."
"Bye, dad - love you..."
"See you on Saturday, guys! Have fun..."
"Bye, Mr. Lidster!" Tay yelled as my dad pulled away from the curb,
leaving us standing like a pair of hitchhikers. "Your dad's really
cool,"
"Couldn't ask for more. And he handles Russell really well, too. You
don't quite know how much grief he saved me..."
"Uh, I hope he's ready for a second round - did you see the look he
shot Zac? Man..."
We started to pull our cases into the house's yard and I tried to
open the door. It was locked.
"Oh, great. HEY, MR. CURRUTHERS! YOU IN?"
No reply.
"Tay, can you do one of those whistles?"
Tay shoved two fingers into his mouth and virtually pierced my
eardrums with a long shrill tone.
"You've got to teach me how to do that some time."
"S'easy - you just stick two fingers in your mouth... Wike vat, an
woo yust bwow..."
"PISS OFF!" came a yell from one of the attic windows.
"Uh, sir?"
"THAT YOU, LIDSTER? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? YOU'RE NOT DUE BACK
UNTIL NEXT MONDAY..."
"Erm, it is next Monday, sir..."
"IS IT? OH. YOU'D BETTER COME IN THEN. WHO'S THAT WITH YOU?"
"Uh, I'd better tell you when we get inside, if that's OK, sir," I
replied, not wanting to advertise to the entire neighbourhood we had
a superstar (well, three) in our midst.
"AH, THE SECRETIVE TYPE. JOLLY GOOD..." he yelled and promptly
disappeared, slamming the window shut after him.
About five minutes later, he appeared behind the frosted glass of the
back door and could be heard fumbling with a bunch of keys. Two drops
and "BLAST!"s later, the door was opened revealing the wispy white-
haired man that was Edward Curruthers, my house master.
"Ah, Lidster, my boy, good to see you," he said, waiving my hand up
and down in a vigorous hand shake. "And this is..." he said, peering
at Taylor over the top of his half-moon spectacles.
"Hanson, sir. Taylor Hanson." I introduced. As you may have guessed,
Curruthers was your stereotypical public school master for the most
part, hence the "surname first" convention. However, he was the only
bloke I knew of his age that regularly used computers, the Internet,
a Cassiopea palmtop thingy and a whole host of other hi-tech gismos
and gadgets, half of which were bought, used once and then shoved on
some shelf to collect dust until someone wanted to borrow them. His
finest and most redeeming feature was, as far as I was concerned, his
open-mindedness: Not just to new technologies, but to life in
general.
When I told him I was gay, he came out with something I will never
forget: "You sure, lad? Yes, of course you're sure, you know your own
mind. Can't say I blame you though, considering the choice you've got
girl-wise at this place. Personally, I've always liked big strapping
women with meat on their bones and breasts and thighs to match:
Something you can get your teeth into, what? They all look like
beanpoles nowadays - they'd just snap if you tried anything
interesting. No, good luck to you, lad - you be you. A good friend
once told me that love is love - gender is just an accessory." I
didn't know just how right he was...
"Hanson, eh?" he said, scanning down the clipboard clumsily screwed
to the wall that held the house allocations for this half of term. "
Ah, Hanson Jordan - That you?"
"Uh, sorta - I was christened Jordan but everyone calls me Taylor."
"All right, T-A-Y-L-O-R, " he said, amending the list in his unique
form of hieroglyphics, "I'm Eddie Curruthers and I'm supposed to be
your house master for the next, um..." he consulted the clipboard
again. "...two weeks - that's right, isn't it?"
"Yeah, uh, I mean yes, sir,"
"Now look, Taylor, I don't really mind what you call me as long as
its not too obscene, OK? The other members of staff, on the other
hand, tend to be a bit stuck on this Sir / Miss thing. As a rule of
thumb if you address every male member of staff as Sir, every lady as
Miss - not ma'am - and you'll be fine. Oh, and if I call you Hanson
rather than Taylor, don't take it too personally, OK? Force of habit.
Very old dog, you see... Dean will show you to your dorm..." he said,
and ambled off down the corridor.
"Uh, yessir, thankyou, sir..."
"He's not a bad bloke, just a bit scatterbrain occasionally,"
"Nah, he's cool. Where's this Dorm, then?"
I helped Tay up the two flights of steps with his suitcase to the
second floor where our dorm was. Usually, the higher up the school
you were the lower the floor you were on. This was no exception -
above us in the Attic Dorm were the house's three third formers.
Attic Dorm was pretty cool as it practically had its own obstacle
course to race round at night, thanks to all the roof supports. Cool
also described the temperature up there in the summer, thanks to the
many unsealed holes. In winter it was bollock-knackering freezing!!
The second floor had two dorms: Meadow View Dorm and River View Dorm
- no guesses where the oh-so-original names came from. Both dorms
usually held four third or fourth formers but this time Meadow View -
our dorm - had one of the beds swapped for a bunk to accommodate Tay.
The first floor had another two dorms (usually fifth formers),
Curruthers' flat an the bathrooms; and the ground floor had the sixth
formers' dorm, kitchen, TV room and Curruthers' living room and
kitchen.
My eyes scanned down the list of neatly laser-printed names on the
door:
Hanson, Jordan T
Lidster, Dean J
Mercer, James L
Singh, Ashish A
Trivett, Steven D
Not a bad lot from all accounts, although I'd never shared a dorm
with any of them (bar Tay) before. Ashish (Ash as he was more
conveniently known) was a true blue, 100% Indian. However, he had
been born and raised solely in the UK and had a perfect Derbyshire
accent - not even the slightest hint of his "mother" tongue anywhere.
He couldn't even speak a word of it anyway. Looks-wise, well, he was
Indian - tall, black hair, mahogany skin, brown eyes and a set of
love-tackle that'd look more at home on your average bull. He'd
always be getting envious glances in the showers...
Steven Trivett had that Commando look about him - blonde crew cut,
piercing blue eyes, light tan, and a set of muscles that some of the
sixth formers envied, his party trick being that he could hold a coin
between each ridge in his six pack...
Jamie Mercer was just cute. He had striking red-verging-on-orange
hair in what was originally a centre parting at the start of the day,
and freckles all over his body. He was still very much a 'little' boy
(something which he desperately resented but could do nothing about)
but had a superbly crisp soprano voice that had been in great demand
over the just-passed festive season. He was a great extrovert and
could get on with just about anyone, assuming that their hearing
could put up with him.
Thankfully, Mr. Curruthers was not in the habit of allocating beds to
pupils before they arrived ("Why the devil should I need to know
where you're sleeping?" he replied when I asked him, eyebrow raised)
and as we were the first to arrive in the house, we got first pick. I
walked through the door and viewed the available choices: Three
single beds, all looking very tired and a relatively newish-looking
bunk bed. There were also two chests of draws and a wardrobe between
us. Four people - fine. Five and it'd be tight, but I didn't mind
sharing in this instance...
"How about we share the bunk?" I suggested. If he agreed to having
the top one, I could be treated to a view of his boxer-clad mid
section every morning...
"That'd be cool, but I'm sure I can give you a reason not to..." He
walked over to the bunk, grabbed the foot board and pulled it gently
back and forth. SQUEAK, SQUEAK...
"See? That comes from sharing a room. People who design bunks always
get them to squeak, even when they're new..."
"Uh, OK - How about these two?" I asked, indicating two beds that
were parallel and against the same wall, separated only by a bedside
table.
"Yea, fine," said Tay and, taking a run up, went to leap on his bed.
"NO!" I screamed after him. Tay hit the brakes and miraculously
managed to twist round and just sit heavily on the edge.
"What?"
I pulled up the mattress to reveal the bed's frame. Nothing but bits
of plywood hammered onto a two-by-two framework with very flimsy
plywood slats acting as bed springs. Despite it sounding really
uncomfortable (which thinking about it, it probably is) you didn't
really notice, except when someone decided to dive on you in a dorm
raid / retaliation situation and half of your plywood slat thingies
decided they couldn't cope and broke, sending you and your mattress
to floor level. They did have one big advantage, though - they didn't
squeak...
"Oh... So, you wanna get your case?"
"Sure..."
CHAPTER THREE
It was half six and we'd just finished our unpacking (not failing to
notice we'd each brought a tube of KY with us) and were lying on our
beds facing the ceiling, talking about nothing in particular.
"So, what do we do now?"
"Not a whole lot, actually. We could go and watch some TV if you
want?"
Just then, we heard the trademark THUMP, THUMP, THUMP of someone
single-handedly dragging a suitcase up the stairs to our floor. The
door opened and a pair of trainers, closely followed by a maroon
duffel bag were thrown through.
"Why can't they just listen to me and INSTALL A BLOODY LIFT!" yelled
Ash back down the stairs.
"I've told you, when you give us the cash," came Curruthers' muffled
reply from the floor below.
"OK - who've we got here, then," he said, thinking out loud not
realising Tay and I were just inside. "Who the hell's Jordan T.
Hanson? Dean... Arrgh! Not Jamie - my ears'll never survive... and
Triv. OK - I could do a lot worse, I suppose..." he mumbled as he
walked through the door, shoving his suitcase in front of him.
"Oh, hi Dean! I didn't realise you were he..." He stopped mid-
sentence as he spotted Tay spread-eagled on his bed, his hair almost
like a halo above him.
"Yo... You're, uh... You're..."
"I think you'd better sit down, Ash - you look quite pale..." I
grinned. It was true - Ashish was the only coloured guy I knew that
could go a lighter shade of brown when scared and / or shocked. This
was just such an occasion. "Ashish, meet Taylor Hanson." Man, that
sounded good! "Tay, this is Ashish Ashley Singh. Just call him
Ash..."
Tay sat up on his bed, hair everywhere, and extended a hand towards
Ash. "Pleased to meet you," he smiled, obviously amused at the
reaction he'd caused. Somehow, Tay'd managed to get himself looking
ultimately seductive without trying again, and I felt myself begin to
get aroused...
Ash tentatively took Tay's and shook it. "Uh, l... Likewise..."
"Earth to Singh - he is a human, you know - just like you and me," I
said, trying to get him to lighten up a bit.
"Oh, erm, sorry, uh, T.. Taylor, I..."
"It's cool, man," smiled back Tay, releasing Ash's hand. "I'm used to
it!"
"No, sorry, I feel like such a jerk..."
"You play N64?" asked Tay, looking for an ice-breaker.
"Sure!"
"You up for it, Dean?"
"Only if you don't mind having both of your arses well and truly
kicked," I said, knowing that unless it was Quake or something like
that, I'd be the one getting slaughtered.
"In your dreams, Lidster," retorted Ash, being something of a
Nintendo freak and starting to come back to his senses. Tay and I
looked at each other, knowing what we really dreamed about whenever
we weren't together...
Tay grabbed the N64 and me the bag of cartridges and all headed
towards the TV room. We hooked the console up to the TV and switched
them on.
Snow. Well, that was better than the end of last term when all it
would display was a super-bright spot in the middle of the screen! I
flicked through to an unused channel and his the "SEARCH" button, the
half-dead LED display flashing violently to indicate is was at least
trying to do something. After a minute or so, the N64's music broke
through the static, followed by a rolling picture. After another few
seconds, the screen flickered as it decided it was getting a yank
NTSC signal and displayed a surprisingly steady (if letterbox shaped)
MarioKart 64 screen. I hit "STORE" and the display stopped flashing,
settling back to it's "I can't really be arsed" dim red.
Five rounds and five victories for Ash later, he proclaimed he was
"to good to be playing with these amateurs." Not people to take abuse
sitting down (not this type, anyway!) we decided to give Ash a run
for his money. Sixth round, and as he lapped us for the second time,
Tay and myself crunched him between our karts. Tay slammed on his
brakes and I steered right hard, chucking Ash over the side of a
cliff. Shame. This combined with either one of us "accidentally"
yanking his controller cable out of the console when we thought he
was winning a bit too much soon gave us the unfair advantage we
needed, and we eventually managed to claw our way past Ash on the
leader board. The thing that clenched it was when we promised not to
pull his cable again and he did it to himself! As a consolation, Tay
and I "let" him win again (and again, and again) which made him a bit
happier.
Once we'd resigned ourselves to the fact that Ash would whip us at
anything N64, we headed back towards the dorm. It was now half seven
and, judging from the noise, quite a few more kids had turned up.
When we reached the dorm, we could hear a heated argument and,
judging by the difference in the pitch of voice, it was between Triv
and Jamie.
"But I don't want to sleep on the top bunk! Besides, you're taller -
you could reach easier."
"Yeah, but you know I don't sleep well. I'd fall out an' break my
neck or somethin' daft. Besides, I was here first."
"Only because you dragged me out the way on the stairs!"
"What's that godda do with it? Nick that Hanson kid's bed. He's new -
none of us know him..."
"I'd laugh if 'that Hanson kid' turned out to be one of them!"
"Why would one of the most well-off kids in the whole world decide to
go to school in this dump..."
"They've been here before, remember?"
"Yeah, but that was a one-off. Go on, he won't mind..."
"And if it was one of them?"
"No way would one of those three stay here for more than one second
longer than they had to..."
"Yeah, but if it was?"
"I'd blow you. Right infront of Dean, Ash and that other kid. And you
could have the bottom bunk."
"You're that sure? You remember what happened when you said we'd win
the World Cup."
"That was different..."
"And if I'm wrong?"
"You do me."
"No way! According to you I've as good as lost already. That's not
really fair, is it?"
"Suppose... How about you run to the bogs naked and back again
tomorrow morning, and I get the bottom bunk? Deal?"
Jamie was a fool and would agree to anything like that, even if he
was sure to loose.
"Deal." They shook on it.
"Now?" whispered Tay, grinning.
I nodded my head and walked in, followed by Ash, Tay bringing up the
rear.
"And this, TAYLOR, is your dorm again," I said as if I were touring
him around the house.
Triv's jaw practically made a hole in the floor.
"Ha, NAILED!!!" laughed Jamie, not only pleased because Triv was
wrong, but because he was going to get sucked for the second ever
time, the first being when Triv bet him we were sure to win the world
cup a couple of years back. One thing about Steven, though, was he
stuck to his word regardless and no matter how many awkward positions
it put him in, he always came through. As such he was highly trusted
and a well respected member of the school, by staff and kids alike.
He'd make a good soldier, one day...
"Hi, Taylor, I'm Jamie Mercer!" he said, bouncing over to us. Jamie
never just walked anywhere - it wasn't in his character. He'd always
bounce, shuffle, glide, cruise, saunter, amble or drag himself, but
never walk...
"Hiya, Jamie," grinned Tay, smiling at his exuberance. It was nice to
be greeted as a person rather than a deity once in a while, and Jamie
had got it just right.
"You bastard," smiled Steven at Jamie. "You knew it was him all
along, didn't you?"
"Honest I didn't, Triv! Taylor - have we met before?" he said,
looking directly into Tay's eyes.
"I think I'd've remembered if we had, and you can call me Tay..."
"See?"
"How much did he pay you?" Triv asked, smiling and extending a hand
towards Tay.
"Nothing, honesty! Pleased to meet you, uh, Steven..."
"Just call me cocksucker from now on," he said, shaking his head. I
still couldn't believe he'd do it again, especially with Ash and
myself looking on, never mind THE Taylor Hanson!
"Uh, if you want I could go ba..."
"Nope - I said I'd do it with 'that Hanson kid watching', so I will,"
he replied, walking over to the door and closing it tightly: The
doorframe was so warped with age that if you gave it a hard enough
shove it was almost as good as locking it. Without saying another
word, Triv walked over to Jamie and dragged his jogger bottoms
(sweatpants?) and kegs to his knees, exposing his little hairless
dick and balls to us all.
"Oh fuck," was the only thing that passed Jamie's lips as, without
hesitating for a moment, Triv dived into his crotch. It took only
seconds for Jamie's little prick to stiffen to its full three inch
length under the thorough onslaught of Steven's tongue. Jamie's legs
began to buckle as his first orgasm hit him, Triv holding his arse
cheeks up with his powerful arms, gently nibbling round his head as
the prepubescent dick spasmed, trying to expel the as yet unexistant
boycum.
I'll tell you something: With Triv you certainly got your money's
worth, him sucking Jamie to a further two climaxes before, just as
quickly as he started, pulled off of his still erect dick and yanked
his kegs and trousers back up, a noticable tent now being present.
Jamie fell back on to his (bottom) bunk and sighed.
"Jesus that was good," he gasped, still short of breath. Jamie wasn't
the only one with a tent in his trousers now, either: Ash, Tay and
myself were displaying sizable lumps and, as Triv stood up, we saw he
was too.
"Er, I, um... need the bog," announced Ash sheepishly, ripping the
door open and legging it down the stairs. I looked at Tay who was
having a rather unsuccessful attempt at rearranging his stiffie so
that it was slightly less obvious. At present it was nearly
perpendicular to him, actually pulling his baggy trousers tighter,
giving me a glimpse of that cute arse of his. Baggy was certainly his
style and suited him, but I wish he'd ware something a little tighter
every once in a while...
"You wanna go watch TV?" I suggested, trying to get us all out of an
awkward situation - for Tay especially.
"Sure," answered both Tay and Triv simultaneously, smiling at each
other and putting themselves at rest.
"You coming?" I asked Jamie.
"Just did, thanks..."
CHAPTER FOUR
We headed down to the TV room, walking as normally as our subsiding
hardons would allow, passing Mr. Curruthers who gave us his "Do I
really want to know what you've been up to?" look. We all just smiled
cordially back which reassured him enough to know we hadn't committed
anything very illegal, so he just carried on pottering around the
dorms, making sure everyone was settling in OK and trying to resolve
the inevitable "this is MY locker" style disputes.
We went into the TV room where the lights had been dimmed to find
(unsurprisingly) that there was not a great amount on TV. "Try
Channel Five," someone yelled to David Pantall, our House Captain,
who was lounging in a knackered old recliner, remote balanced
precariously on the arm. He jabbed the '5' key - nothing happened. He
pulled the back off the remote and rolled the batteries around until
they were "just so" then, lifting the contraption carefully with his
left hand covering the battery compartment so as not to upset his
hard work, gently massaged the button for the second time.
Astonishingly the TV responded and leapt to channel five, displaying
their gordy logo as they linked between programmes. Dave smiled
smugly as, so far, everyone else in the house simply couldn't get the
damned remote to work. As a consequence they had to get up to use the
TV's manual controls and as soon as they did, promptly lost their
seat.
In the mean time, Triv displaced three third formers from the two-
seater couch and motioned for us all to sit down before some other
gannet-eyed opportunist nicked them. We all squeezed on, me yelping
as I managed to sit on my keys. The third formers seemed to buzz
around like flies that'd just been wafted from a loaf of bread,
circling and landing as close to their original positions as they
could, namely the arms and sides of the sofa.
On Five was one of their few home-brewed programmes, namely one that
was supposed to compete with ITV's "Movies, Games and Videos" and the
BBC's "The O-Zone". No chance. However as there was naff-all else to
do (it was dark, cold and wet outside - something UK residents get
quite accustomed to...) we reasoned we may as well watch it. It was
hosted by this complete tosser who thought he was THE best host in
the world as well as being unbearably attractive to the opposite sex.
No such luck, mate. However, when he wasn't on screen, it proved to
be relatively entertaining, them going over some of the more popular
songs over the last year.
It proved to be even more interesting when Hanson was mentioned as
being responsible for the most irritating / memorable / enjoyable
song with MMMBop, last year it going to No Mercy with "Where Do You
Go". As the video started to play Tay, who'd dropped off to sleep,
suddenly woke up, eyes straining to focus on the TV.
"Man, I thought they'd stopped runnin' this thing like months ago!
And I look so YOUNG there..."
He was right - I'd never had the chance to compare them before and
hadn't really thought there was a difference.
Now I could see Tay had filled out quite a bit since they made the
Vid - most noticeably in his facial proportions and his shoulders.
The door to the TV room was at the opposite end to the TV itself and
this, combined with the dim lighting, meant we'd entered practically
un-noticed.
"What d'you mean 'I look so young'..." asked Dave, swiveling round in
his recliner to face Tay. "Fuck me! Somebody hit the lights!"
As the lights were wound up, the look of disbelief on Dave's face
could now be seen. "I do not belieeeeve it," he said, doing a rather
kacky impression of Victor Meldrew from One Foot In The Grave. "A
superstar in my house! How come I never get told these things?
Pleased to meet you, Taylor! Taylor Hanson, meet the rest of the
House..."
"Uh, hi..." said Tay, turning a quite impressive shade of crimson.
Despite him being able to play infront of thousands of people, he was
still one of the shyest people I knew, but as far as I was concerned,
that just made him all the more sexy...
Of the fifteen or so people in the room, about nine looked mildly
shocked, two seemed to fall into instant lust and the remaining four
did their "hard bastard don't give a shit" response. Being the sort
of school we are, we've had the Sultan of Brunei's nephew, and the
son of the Pakistani Coca Cola bottling company (Pakola, for those
who don't know) but never someone so openly in the media spotlight:
you never saw the other two on TV at least every week, if at all. As
such after the usual whys and wherefores involved with a notable
person "gracing us with their presence", Tay was accepted as just
another new face, with one exception.
"Stay there," yelled one of the third formers, of whom I knew fairly
little except that he was called Jason Arnold and was a Hanson fan.
Now, I'm the first to admit that Hanson's music is top rate, but its
Hanson the people I like, not just Hanson the music. Jason was a
Hanson the Merchandise sort of person - if it had Hanson on it in any
way, shape or form, he had it. Mugs, T-shirts, all their albums and
singles (CD and cassette, of course), key rings, posters, you name
it. Thankfully, he'd only brought a small selection with him this
term and all that, as well as him, came bursting through the TV room
door a moment later much to the amusement of his peers.
"Uh, Taylor, d'you think I could have your autograph?"
"I didn't even know half of this stuff'd been made!" exclaimed Tay,
rather taken aback at the range of mugs, T-shirts and other
paraphernalia that'd been chucked on his lap. Jason chucked him a
marker. "My name's Jason - could you start with Middle of Nowhere?"
"You just sign one thing," interrupted Dave, all house captain-like.
"Jason, you'll have plenty of time to harass Taylor over the next
couple of weeks, OK? If he gives you any problems, Tay, I'm sure Dean
and Triv can give you a hand putting him right..."
Jason looked at me, immediately jumping to the typical "long hair /
ripped jeans" stereotype and then looked at Triv, and jumped to the
"buzz-cut / dog tags" stereotype (which in Triv's case was spot on)
and decided not to argue, tactfully removing the strewn Hanson
merchandise from our laps. Tay held on to the CD though and signed
the inlay booklet:
"To Jason - the most obsessed fan on the planet! Taylor"
"There you go," he said, handing back the CD and marker.
"Wow, thanks!" said Jason, grinning from ear to ear.
After this small amount of comic relief, Tay decided to go to bed he
was "beat" from the flight. Not wanting to be too clingy, I said I'd
be down here watching the end of the programme.
= = = = =
Watching the end of the programme soon turned into the inevitable "So
what did you get up to over the holidays?" routine between everyone.
As usual, the responses were as diverse as ever from a "quiet family
Christmas" through to surfing in Australia. All right for some, I
suppose...
By the time we'd finished swapping anecdotes, the Fourth Form bedtime
of 9:45 had rolled round, and Triv, Ash (who'd turned up looking
suitably relieved) myself and the other fourth formers were packed
off to bed by Dave.
We brushed our teeth and went up to the dorm, finding the lights out.
Not wanting to disturb the sleeping beauties, as Ash put it (he
didn't know how right he was) we got changed by the pale light of
Ash's new toy - one of those American police style MagLites - and got
into bed.
= = = = =
My face was immersed in the eerie blue pool of light created by my
IndiGlow watch. 11:47PM. I breathed out hard, turning over for the
umpteenth time in a desperate attempt to go to sleep, the sounds of
deep, regular breathing all round me making me envious. I wished Tay
was awake to keep me company...
I shuffled around again so I was lying on my back, my eyes focusing
on the invisible ceiling above me. The almost psychedelic pale reds
and blues of nothingness danced infont of me as I squeezed my eyelids
tightly closed, swirling into complete blackness as I let them drift
open again.
Getting bored with the vague amusement this sense was providing, I
turned to my hearing, listening in great detail to the sounds of
unconsciousness my friends were providing. As I listened, I tried to
match a breathing sound to a person, swiveling my head around to
allow my audio centers a better chance of triangulating their
positions.
I could hear three distinct rhythms, bar my own. Jamie's seemed
faster than the others, ending in a slight snore each time he
breathed in. Triv's was easy to distinguish as it was the only one
four feet above the others, and Ash's seemed slightly odd to me as
he'd breathe in very deeply and slowly, pause for a second and then
exhale quickly and noisily, pausing for a further couple of seconds
before repeating it again.
Tay's steady, quiet sound that I'd come to know quite well over weeks
past was missing, however. Straining my eyes I looked over at him,
the minute amount of light that was allowed in by the thick curtains
from the streetlamps outside allowing me to vaguely make out the
elegant curves created by his hips and waist as he lay on his side.
Looking out of the corner of my eyes (the periphery of your vision is
far more sensitive to contrast and movement than the centre) I could
make out the rise and fall of his chest, but it was too quick and
controlled for sleep.
I dismissed it and rolled over again, this time taking my aggression
out on my pillow by giving it a damn good thrashing, trying to
persuade the thin layer of artificial filling to provide some
support.
"Dean, you awake?" whispered Tay.
"How d'you guess?"
"I can't sleep either. I'm tired but I guess my body's still on US
time..."
"I can never sleep first night back. Just one of those quirks I
have."
We fell quiet for a minute.
"Dean?"
"Mmm?"
"I'm lonely..."
That was all the invitation I needed. I threw back my duvet and slid
under Tay's, letting my arm run over his T-shirt clad chest. I
snuggled up close to him, our bodies molding together as if one and
it felt so right. I leant over and kissed him gently on the cheek.
"Love you,"
"I love you too," he said, turning his head to face me. We kissed
gently on the lips and both started to fall into the sleep we'd been
searching for all evening, secure in each other's closeness.
CHAPTER FIVE
I woke to the clattering of third formers' feet down rickety wooden
stairs outside our dorm door. I yawned one of those really big "first
one of the morning" yawns, stretching my arms and legs to the extents
of their travel in the process. As my arm came down, I felt it come
into contact with something warm, which took me quite by surprise. I
then remembered where I was - in Tay's bed - and then where I was
again - at school.
"Morning," whispered Tay, rubbing his hand up and down my arm, giving
me Goosebumps all over. I lent over and we kissed our first kiss of
the day.
"I'd better get back to my own bed before..." I didn't have chance to
finish. Curruthers smashed through our door, having tripped over the
section of loose, unfastened carpet just outside.
"DAMN AND BLAST!" he yelled, steadying himself against a rather
unstable wardrobe, causing it to teeter precariously back and forth.
Once he'd recovered, he continued with his routine.
"Morning, chaps!" he said, switching the lights on and off a couple
of times in a flawed attempt to get us out of bed. As anyone will
know, during the holidays, kids of our age tend to go to bed as late
as our bodies will allow (or later) and get up after twelve hours or
so later; the outcome being us accustomed to getting up in the
afternoon.
I squinted and rubbed my eyes as the bare electric light bulb
displaced the relative calm of the darkness, revealing a lunar
landscape of threadbare carpet, strewn clothes and assorted suitcases
and handbaggage, all of which looked as if it had seen twice the
amount of service it had been designed to. I got out of Tay's bed and
promptly tripped over his knapsack, sending me flying back onto my
own bed and landed in a very ungraceful heap.
Curruthers eyed my in his "don't even try to explain" sort of look,
smiling widely.
"Well, seeing as you two are up," Did I detect a slight emphasis on
that last word? Surely not... "You can save me a job by getting these
three up..." Without waiting for an answer, he strode out, shaking
his head.
"That guy is seriously cool," said Tay. "D'you think he knew we'd
slept together?"
"I'd say so. There's no way I could've got out of my bed and landed
at this angle! So, do you wanna get 'em up, or shall I?"
"Let me," said Tay, putting two fingers to his lips. I covered my
ears.
Jamie sat bolt upright as Tay's unbelievably piercing whistle echoed
of the glossy walls and whacked his head on the bunk above him with a
thud. He yelled and collapsed backwards, only to hit the back of his
head on his headboard, causing him to yell again. He was now very
wide awake, if a little dazed
"Taylor, that could be classed as an offensive weapon," smiled Triv,
gradually opening his eyes. Ash hadn't moved an inch. He was renowned
for sleeping late and resisting all but the most persistent and
uncomfortable "persuasive techniques" to get him out of bed.
"Ashish," I said, walking over to him. No response.
"ASHISH," I said, a little louder.
"Whatthefuckdyouwant..." came the duvet-muffled reply.
"Time to get up," I informed him. A hand emerged from under the duvet
and gave me the bird.
"Fuck off."
"Aw, don't be mean," I said and ripped his cocoon-like duvet off him,
allowing the chilly air in the dorm to attack his bare legs and arms,
Goosebumps appearing almost immediately. Ash turned over onto his
back so he could see me.
"I hate you with the very fabric of my being," he said in a flat,
emotionless tone, best described as that of MTV's "Daria".
Tay and I just laughed and headed off to the bathroom after Triv and
Jamie, the latter staggering a bit. Just so Ash didn't have the
option, we took his duvet with us.
If you're a third former, you're keen. It's written into your
contract. For some completely bizarre reason, when you get into third
form, you feel an overwhelming desire to get up as early in the
morning as is physically possible, have the quickest wash imaginable
(if at all) and then leg it out the house and up to breakfast. Why
they do this - just as I did a year back - is now completely beyond
me: They get up so early breakfast hasn't started, so they hang
around outside the dining hall for a half-hour...
This morning was no exception - by the time we'd reached the
bathroom, the last third former was just slamming the back door
behind him, cycle lights, helmet and school issue reflective belt in
hand.
The school had always had a very prominent safety policy, but no more
so after a car hit a kid as he was walking back to his boarding house
one night.
He died a few hours later in hospital.
I never knew him (it happened before my time) but everyone knew _of_
him - his parents were so dumbfounded by what happened they insisted
the story be told to each newcomer as a warning, and to help the
situation, the school imposed heavy penalties on kids not wearing
reflective belts. If you were found not wearing one, you were gated
for a fortnight without exception. Even one of the prefects fell foul
to this, much to our amusement...
Thankfully, the "3rd form keen, 6th form can't give a shit" attitude
worked well, Curruthers actually encouraging it: the reason being
that it allowed quite a nice staggered start to the day, meaning the
bathroom was free for the particular year wanting to use it and
"traffic jams were less likely than in the evening.
No one was in the showers, so T-shirts and boxer shorts were flung
off and the four of us leapt in, only to leap out again a second or
so later.
"ARRGH! IT'S FUCKING FREEZING!" yelled Triv, outraged. If there was
one thing he was partial to, it was his morning shower. ("Clears the
shit outa my head" as he put it).
Curruthers, with his unique timing, stuck his head round the bathroom
door. "I must tell you, lads, I forgot to switch the water heaters on
again last night. You can have a shower if you want, but it might...
be... a... bit..." he noticed that all four of us were naked,
drenched and shivering madly. "...er, cold..." he finished, and made
a rapid exit. Triv looked like he was about ready to kill someone,
Curruthers probably being fairly high up on his list!
Tay grabbed my towel from the row of pegs behind us and began drying
my back off without thinking. It hadn't occurred to me or Tay that
doing this may be considered a little strange for a pair of fourteen
year old lads, and was indicated but the sudden lack of noise - of
any kind - from Jamie and Triv. I looked round to see both of them
just staring at us, not quite sure what to make of it. Everyone knew
I was gay, but what about Taylor? Was he just being friendly, or was
there a little more to it?
He suddenly realised I was looking at something and followed my line
of sight to the two gobsmacked teenagers. He realised what he'd done
and blushed that deep shade of crimson that I loved so much. I was
just about to try and explain when Jamie, as ever, broke the silence.
"Um, this may sound like a bit of a stupid question, but you two
aren't, uh... You aren't... um..."
Jamie was lost for words, which was very strange indeed: Articulation
of the English language usually never posed a problem at all, much to
the amusement of his peers...
Tay took my hand and squeezed it tight, giving us both the courage to
nod yes.
The look of disbelief grew on both their faces.
"How long?" asked Triv, the idea of sentence construction escaping
completely.
"About six months, I guess..." admitted Tay shyly, glancing at me and
grinning a mischievous grin that gave away more than he realised.
"You're winding me up!" laughed Jamie. "You're not that lucky, Mr.
Lidster..."
"Ya think? Would I do this?" grinned Tay and grabbed me in one of
those fifties style movie embraces, me draped over his arm and gazing
into those deep eyes of his. Before I realised it, he'd planted his
lips firmly on my own, his tongue forcing entry, which I gladly
permitted. As he was bent over me, I could feel his dick and balls
rubbing against my thigh, their delicious warmth against my cold skin
making my own dick rise to the occasion. I wrapped my arm around
Tay's neck, pulling him tighter against me in order to become a more
active participant. I'm not usually such an exhibitionist, but I
couldn't care less if it meant Tay and I could share each other...
"Guys, if you're in those showers then you're all crazier than I
th... FUCK ME!" Ash was another who wasn't afraid to express himself,
even when he had just emerged from bed. Tay broke the kiss
dramatically by swinging me back onto my feet, my hair going hippie-
style infront of my face. Believe me, I felt how I looked!! As soon
as Tay released me, I suddenly became very self-conscious, my
erection jutting out infront of me not helping in the slightest. I
was almost afraid to rake the hair from my eyes as it would mean
making contact with the others. I bit the bullet and dragged my
fingers through my hair and looked at Triv and Jamie.
You know those cartoons where a character's jaw drops to the ground?
Enter these two! They couldn't believe what they'd just seen: Sure,
they knew I was gay, but seeing me actually _ACTING_ gay, especially
with Tay, was a little too much for them to comprehend. However, in
good "horny-lad" tradition, thy both had also got a little more
excited than I'd have expected for a pair of straight lads. This made
me feel a whole lot better, and I just shrugged my shoulders at them,
smiling widely.
The spell was broken by the sound of the fifth form clattering down
the stairs to the bathroom, and we all dived for our underwear to
afford us a little modesty infront of the older lads. Glances were
exchanged to ensure that this incident didn't go any further than the
shower room, and we began to go back to the dorm to dress for school.
As we were leaving, the fifth formers muscled in, as yet unaware that
the water was stone cold, and I noticed one or two of them looking
Tay's half-naked body over, a couple shoving past him in a rather
artificial manner in order to get a "feel" of him. I couldn't blame
them a bit!
Back in the dorm there was a rather uneasy silence, the only sound
that of arms being slid into cotton shirts etc. I couldn't live with
this - I had to set the record straight one way or another with them.
"Uh, guys? Does what Tay and I did, um, bother you? I mean, you're
not gonna freak are you?"
Jamie smiled widely. "Like hell it does! I'm as horny as shit now,
and I can't do anything about it 'till this evening! My life's
difficult enough as it is without you and Goldie Locks there turning
me on..."
"Oh, I dunno," said Triv. "You got a fairly good deal last night..."
"Yeah, but it's _THIS MORNING_ now! Can't you bet me pigs will fly or
something?" Jamie said in exasperation, rubbing the bulge in the
front of his dark grey trousers.
"No, but as long as you'll do _me_ a favour, I'll get you off
again..."
"Huh?!" Chorused everyone except Triv. This was getting a bit too
good...
Tay sat by me on the edge of my bed and ran his hand up and down my
thigh, his little finger just grazing my crotch slightly, and waited
for the show to start.
"You're not Gay as well are you?" Jamie asked mockingly.
"I... I dunno... I really got turned on by watching those two," he
said, glancing over at us. "and I wanna see how I feel..."
Jamie didn't quite know what to say - Triv with his hard commando
looks and tented trousers was obviously having an effect on Jamie,
but one that he himself wasn't quite prepared for. Jamie was quite
visibly shaking now, half from excitement, half from fear. Emotions
flashed across his face: joy, apprehension, lust, fear - all
combining upon his rather delicate face. I looked down at my watch
and noticed it was 7:30 already.
"Uh, guys, we'd better get up to school if we want to make
breakfast."
Both Jamie and Triv relaxed as the focus of attention left them. We
grabbed respective coats from the hooks on the door, and Tay and I
picked up our blades from the side of my bed.
It was one of those fresh, crisp mornings that if you had time, would
probably consider to be fairly beautiful. We didn't. Ash, Triv and
Jamie headed for the bike sheds whilst Tay and I pulled our blades on
and skated out onto the road, Tay takign a hard right and beginning
to skate up the right hand side.
"'Scuse me, Mr. With-it, normal people tend to drive in the left hand
side over here."
"Shit!" yelled Tay as he hastily made his way over to join me, a car
screaming round the corner at breakneck speed a moment later. "I
guess that could be rather bad for your health."
"HEY GUYS! HOLD ON A SECOND!" yelled Ike from behind us as he emerged
from the lane that lead down to his house, his leather jacket
flapping behind him. He came careering up to us and used Tay as a
brake. "This boarding thing is seriously cool."
"Yeah? How come?"
"You haven't met my house master, Tay."
CHAPTER SIX
The glint in Ike's eye gave the game away, so we decided just to head
off to school and leave the explanations until we could find
somewhere a little more private. In a boarding school, that always
presents a problem as there's someone somewhere all of the time but
with a little persistence, the odd quiet spot could be found.
We skated the mile or so to school at a fair pace, the school drive
turning into a racetrack as we all decided to try and out-blade each
other. Tay was winning until a pebble jammed one of his blades,
causing him to pull up fairly sharpish. I was skating right behind
him - admiring the view - and was so preoccupied I didn't notice his
speed had dropped to zero. My impact dislodged the stone and we
coasted as one down the rest of the slight grade on the drive to the
"back door" - Ike zooming past us to a convincing victory.
One of the main entrances for the pupils to the main school building
was through "The Caves" - the school's basement. We rolled down the
treacherously slippy slope and burst through the door, the handle
embedding itself in the inch-deep hole made by many such entrances.
Down here could be found the cloakroom, Rec. Room, assorted store
rooms and the boiler room. Seeing as no-one important ever came down
here, decoration was not a top priority: the hall was lit by bare
electric light bulbs which picked out all of the imperfections on the
untidily plastered ceiling - that is in the places the plaster was
still clinging on. Telephone cables, power lines and pipes criss-
crossed the ceiling, a couple of which were low enough to do yourself
quite an injury with if you hadn't been warned.
We chucked our coats onto the deformed pegs in the cloakroom and
headed up the concrete steps to the ground floor. I opened the door
at the top of the stairs and the sound of a hundred or so teenagers
busily shifting food into their faces and filling each other in on
the latest greeted our ears. The d,cor up here was far more
"civilised" (the walls had been painted within the last decade) as it
was on general display to any parents who happened to come ambling
through in search of a "lost" son or daughter.
"Mmm, smells real nice," said Tay sarcastically as he got a whiff of
the slightly acrid smell of the dodgy school sausages. We continued
down the corridor and turned into the dining hall. Breakfast here
was, to be honest, fairly good. Every meal you had you generally got
a choice. In the mornings, it was usually a choice of beans.
Beans and sausages, beans and scrambled egg, beans and bacon, beans
on toast and, if any were available together, a combination thereof.
You could usually grab a bowl of cereal and a glass of "real" fruit
juice, real being used in its loosest possible sense. I have the
feeling that the "juice" had been shown an orange or apple at some
stage in its life, but didn't actually contain any.
I shuffled through the pile of trays at the end of the counter and
selected three that didn't have chewing gum, dried jam or were
encrusted with leftovers, and handed one to Ike and Tay.
"Morning, Heather!" I said to the plump lady stood behind the
counter.
"'ey up, Dean!" she grinned. "Wot you 'avin this mornin'?" Heather
wasn't the prettiest sight on earth, but she truly had a heart of
gold. She knew every pupil and member of staff on a first name basis,
never had a bad word to say about anyone (even the awkward bastards
who constantly complained about the food - there's only so much you
can do with a quid a day) and always managed to coax a smile from me,
no matter how knackered or depressed I felt. You couldn't ask for a
better start to the day.
"Erm, I'll have sausages and beans. and a couple of rounds of toast,
please."
"There yer go, me luv," she said, handing me a plate loaded with the
school's finest. "Yes, me duck?" she said, grinning her toothy grin
at Tay.
"Are they, like, normal sausages?" he asked, eyeing my plate
suspiciously. I cast my eyes heavenwards.
"Well, luv, roomer has it that they did come from a pig."
"They're dead, Tay, honest" I reassured him.
"Uh, I'll have the same again please," he said gingerly.
"You just remember, luv," grinned Heather, "I may be a big girl, but
I'm a friendly one. What's yer name, luv?"
"Uh, Taylor."
"Taylor. That's a nice name. So if you're Taylor, this must be..."
she screwed he face up in deep thought. "Isaac. Int it?"
"Yes, ma'am" said Ike, returning her smile.
"I'm Heather. Not ma'am, not miss, just Heather. OK?"
"Sure," answered Tay.
"Good! Now we've got that settled, yer can ave yer food!"
Ike was ultra-adventurous and had exactly the same as me and Tay. We
balanced the plates precariously on the slippy surface of the tray
and ambled into the dining room proper, and found a space on the
table that Ash, Jamie and Triv were occupying. Bikes did have one
distinct advantage - they were a whole lot quicker than blades.
Conversation was made easily despite this morning's little silence,
and soon everyone was avidly discussing the pros and cons of the
school. We soon noticed Zac being his normal exuberant self a couple
of tables infront of us, showing off to his peers like there was no
tomorrow, much to the amusement of his older brothers. However, the
happy scene soon degenerated into turmoil as Zac was doing his
visually impressive "I'm being strangled" routine. He was leaning
back on his chair, feet locked under the crossbar of the heavy wooden
table as support, when Gareth decided it'd be fun to remove said
counterbalance.
With a sharp tug, the table moved that crucial six inches away from
Zac, leaving him with arms and legs flailing in mid air, desperately
trying to fling himself forward again. No such luck. With a very loud
"Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!" Zac fell backwards against the lad behind
him. Big mistake.
The room fell silent as Nick Drage slowly lifted his head out of his
breakfast, bits of beans and soggy toast landing with quiet splats on
his tray.
Nick was, well, Nick. That's the only way of describing him. Six foot
two and built like a brick shithouse, he was the school's best Prop
in the first fifteen Rugby side - but what he had in stature, he lost
in brains. "I'm not very clever, but I can lift heavy weights" was
the standard Drage catchphrase whenever he was out of earshot.
He lifted his hands to his face and scooped the sticky tomato sauce
from his eyes, his face changing colour to match it. Slowly he stood
up, his chair making an agonising screeching sound as he pushed it
back with his highly muscled calves and turned to face the hysterical
Zac on the floor, completely oblivious to the person he'd just
dunked.
He only noticed when the sliding chair made contact with his little
finger, trapping a small amount of his flesh between the chair leg
and the polished wooden floor.
"Hey man, watch it." giggled Zac as his reflexes pulled his hand up.
He looked up into the face of one extremely pissed off sixth former.
"Oh, sorry man - I. I didn't mean to."
"Shut the fuck up you little pussyboy!"
"Hey! I said I was sorry."
"Is sorry gonna get this shit off me? Like fuck it is!" And with
that, Nick dived for Zac. Zac scrabbled out of the way just in time,
Nick landing on the back of the chair Zac'd just fallen off.
Nick yelled in pain as the old but sturdy piece of furniture dug into
him. "Come 'ere, you little fuckwit!" he yelled, dragging himself to
his feet just in time to see Zac legging it out the door, sending a
couple of girls flying.
"Sorryyyyyyyyyy..." exclaimed Zac, his voice fading away down the
corridor.
Everyone at our table looked in utter disbelief at what had just
happened: never had I seen such an outburst in school, especially not
one with such a real threat of someone getting seriously hurt.
Dave Pantall leapt out of his seat and managed to calm Drage down
from his ultra-psycho state, but was obviously still pretty miffed,
the remnants of his breakfast clinging to his unshaven cheeks.
"I think I'd better go find Zac," mumbled Ike, standing up from the
table.
"Hanson, you'd better keep that brother o' yours as far away from me
as ya can," postured Drage.
"Hey, ease up, will ya?" said Dave. "He's only a kid - it was a
mistake..."
"Fuckwit," retorted Nick, the fires of anger gradually ebbing to a
controllable size.
Zac pelted down the corridor that lead out to the quad, not
particularly bothered where he ended up as long he was "out of range"
of the psycho-ninja-bastard that wanted to remove some of his more
popular body parts. As he rounded a corner of the corridor he turned
his head to check his assailant wasn't too far behind. Thankfully, he
wasn't their at all, Zac giving a silent sigh of relief. Then he
found himself on the floor. At first, he thought he'd run into a wall
(he'd done that twice before now) but as he pulled himself together,
found himself staring into the eyes of a seriously cute lad, probably
just a little older than himself.
"Hey, sorry man - you alright?"
"Yeah - I'll live..." said the dazed boy, also regaining the use of
his lower limbs. He pulled his green school jersey round so that the
arms were actually around his arms, having managed to migrate to a
rather uncomfortable position during the collision. Once he'd
straightened himself out, Jonathan Peitz looked for the first time at
the guy who'd managed to total him.
Before him stood an out-of-breath, blonde-haired twelve year old with
an apologetic smile on his face - a smile that went straight to his
heart and melted it like butter. Jon went weak at the knees. He'd
just been creamed by Zac Hanson - WOW! That meant that Zac had
actually TOUCHED him! Jon's head was swimming: Ever since MMMBop had
projected them into the media spotlight, Jon had been obsessed with
Zac - the sound of his voice, his looks, his smile...
Before he really knew what he was doing, Jon quickly moved towards
Zac and kissed him on the cheek. Realising what he'd done, he swore
and legged it off down the corridor towards the quad. Zac just stood
there. This was going to be a very good two weeks indeed...
CHAPTER SEVEN
As Ike got up, the rest of our table decided we didn't have a lot to
hang around for, and so followed his lead, shoving our trays into the
racks at the end of the dining room. As we noisily filtered out into
the corridor, the bell rang signifying the start of Morning Cleaning.
I grabbed Ike and Tay as they walked past one of the notice boards,
pointing out the list of morning cleaning areas to them, my eyes
scanning down the two-hundred-and-fifty strong list.
GORING, B (=) 24
HANSON, CI (+) 11
HANSON, JT (+) 18
HANSON, ZW (+) 05
HAWKESWORTH, CD (*) 12
....
LIDSTER, DJ (+) 18
I'd obviously done something right - Tay and I were assigned to the
same area. My eyes then jumped to the list of areas beside the names
list.
"Eighteen, eighteen," I mumbled to myself as I ran my finger down the
list, Tay and Ike looking slightly overwhelmed by the sheer number of
notices and snippets of information scattered round the assorted
notice boards.
"18 - Sports Hall Changing Rooms"
Tay grimaced slightly.
"Nah - that's a good one," I explained. "The Sports Hall has its own
cleaners anyway - I did it last term and I only had to touch a broom
once!" A look of relief spread across Tay's face. Ike'd got the idea
and was looking up his number.
"Science Labs?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
"That's another good one - you get to help some of the teachers
prepare their practicals for that day - just be careful with the
biology department - last term they had Triv part dissecting frogs
ready for the fifth form..."
"Where's Zac going to be?"
"Er... Back Drive. Its outside, but it's not too difficult... Oh.
There may be a small problem, though..."
"What?"
"Nick Drage is his supervisor! Judging by this morning if he's even a
second late he'll be put on PD..."
"PD?" Asked Tay, the ins-and-outs of the school "law" not quite
familiar to him.
"Prefect's Detention. Basically, you piss a sixth former off enough
and as long as he can concoct a "valid" reason, you end up shovelling
shit for an hour on the school farm."
"Do they do, like, season tickets? 'Cause I think we'd better get Zac
one!" laughed Ike.
"Hey - it ain't funny! You can be put on three or four times in a row
if you're not careful: Four hours standing knee-high in crap doesn't
do too much for your social life - no-one'll come near you for a
start!"
"Oh - I guess that could be kinda rough..."
"You're all right, Ike - I've only ever seen one sixth former on PD,
but that was because he was on duty and wouldn't turn up on time. His
team leader got so pissed off he put him on to try and teach him a
lesson. Didn't work, though..."
"Hey guys! Whatcha doin'?" said Zac, walking round the corner with an
ear-to-ear grin on his face.
"Finding out what's gonna make your life hell for the next
fortnight," smiled Tay.
"Huh?"
"You know that guy that tried to kill you?"
"Yyyyeahhh..."
"He's gonna be your super for morning cleaning!"
"Yeah, right..."
"See for yourself..."
Zac looked down the lists, the smirk quickly dropping from his face.
"You'd better run - Nick doesn't give much leeway when it comes to
sprogs..."
"SPROGS? I'm not a sprog!" protested Zac.
"You are now," grinned Tay, tussling Zac's hair.
"Gerroff!" yelled Zac, ducking away from his hand. He flicked his
hair back with a toss of his head and pegged it down the corridor
towards the back drive.
"C'mon Tay - we'd better get going too. Ike - take a left in the quad
- the science labs are the newish looking buildings straight infront
of you, 'K? The lab technician'll sort you out..."
I took Tay by the hand and pulled him off towards the sports hall.
Tay and I spent the next quarter of an hour lounging around in the
sports hall drinking a couple of (extortionately priced) cans of
cola, and trading stories and jokes, Tay coming out with by far the
best:
"Hey Dean, you heard the one about the three guys in a bar?"
"Ermm - which one?"
"I'll tell you anyway...
"There were three guys sitting in a bar..."
"Yeah, you just said..."
"You wanna hear the joke?"
"I'm sorry..."
"'k. There were three guys sitting in a bar and they were drinkin'
more and more. After a couple of hours they were, like, totally gone
and so they decided they'd better get home.
"They stood up and headed out to the parking lot. The first guy got
into his car and just managed to get home, but he was sooo drunk that
the moment he got through the door he started blowing chunks big
time...
"The second guy only managed to get into his car before he threw up,
and then was so stoned he didn't even make it out of the parking lot
- getting stopped by an inconveniently placed mailbox.
"The third guy was even more drunk, threw up on the hood of his car
and then passed out.
"The next day, all three met up to talk about the previous night, the
first guy telling his story, then the second, then the third, the
third guy obviously figuring that he was the most drunk of the lot.
"'Guys, I don't think you're with me here,' interrupted the first
guy. 'Chunks is my dog...'"
"Woargh!! Tay, that's gross!"
"Good, huh?"
Just then the bell rang, signalling the mass immigration of pupils to
chapel.
Entrance to chapel was the same every morning: two hundred and fifty
kids being herded like a flock of sheep up two flights of stairs
under the watchful eyes of the duty team, ensuring that no-one was
queue barging or causing unnecessary hassle.
The queue gradually progressed up the well-worn stairs to the double
doors, the sound of a couple of hundred kids chatting noisily to each
other getting steadily louder.
As we entered the high-ceilinged room, complete with criss-crossed
oak beams, I glanced round to see where there was a spare seat.
One of the many "unwritten rules" was where year groups sat in the
morning. Chapel was arranged in a "U" shape, the centre of the "U"
being the floor space where the unfortunate sod that had been forced
to take chapel stood. It could be quite disturbing having an audience
on three of the four compass-points, but gave rise to far more
audience participation... The seats were tiered in semi-circular
rows, getting higher the further back you went. First and second
years sat on the front two rows of the semi-circle. Third years sat
in a block directly North of the speaker. Fourth form sat in a block
directly East near the back, Fifth form symmetrically opposite them
(West of the speaker), the lower sixth at the back directly north of
the speaker, the Upper sixth in a wedge shape north west, and the
staff in another wedge shape to the north east.
Tay gazed around at the assorted stone carvings on the walls, and
commenting on how private the block of seats "over there" looked,
motioning to the fourth form area. In order to provide a more
focusing atmosphere (according to the bloke who designed the Chapel's
lighting system) the floor space was very brightly lit with four arc
lamps. From there outwards, the lights became of a lower power and
lower in density, making the light fade as you reached the perimeter.
Just right for falling to sleep in...
"Dean! Tay! Up here..." Yelled Triv, waving madly from a secluded
corner. Tay and I headed up towards him. Somehow Triv, for the last
couple of terms or so, had had the soul responsibility of keeping
Chapel clean and tidy for his morning cleaning job. This task
rivalled mine and Tay's on the sports hall in the "Top Ten morning
cleaning jobs" as the chapel too was cleaned by the cleaning staff,
just leaving him to push a couple of hymn numbers into the hymn
display board, conveniently located directly above his present
position.
This also meant he could bagsie a few seats before the fight began to
get "decent" seats - i.e. the ones furthest to the back...
We chatted idly for a few moments as the stragglers who had been kept
back by their morning cleaning supervisors filtered in in dribs and
drabs, showing the wear and tear that the less desirable outside jobs
(e.g. Bins, sweeping etc.) imposed on them: Hair messed up and shirt
tales hanging out - a finable offence...
"Could you be quiet now, please" rang out the PoD's voice from the
doorway, indicating that the staff were on their way in. The chatter
died down to a low mumble, and then ceased just as the first member
of staff stepped into the room. This was something else I couldn't
explain either: Why the hell did everyone shut up when they were
asked to by the PoD? (S)He couldn't possibly put everyone on PD for
not doing as they were told , yet everyone would always shut up...
Guess it's just another of life's little mysteries...
The members of staff walked casually over to their seats, themselves
going through their own little "Ha! _I_ got the best seat today!"
routine - there were certain combinations of members of staff that
just didn't work well together, and both they and the old hands at
the school knew exactly what these combinations were. As such, it was
always amusing to see the lengths some of them would go to in order
not to sit next to one another - some pretending to forget something
and legging it back to the staff room, some dropping their specs or
hymnbook and allowing another member of staff to "nick" their seat...
It was sooo petty, but was a source of amusement none the less...
Once all the staff were as settled as they were going to be, the
Headmaster strode in, closely followed by the PoD who closed the
double doors behind him and went and sat next to the other members of
his duty team. The head then proceeded to do his "Welcome back..."
bit, which always started in a very off-handed way in my opinion:
"Hello everyone! Nice to see you all back: I trust you had a good
holiday. This term..."
This sentence rarely took more than three seconds to deliver and
somehow seemed to immediately tone down the importance of anything
interesting that happened over the last holiday: It was so brisk and
matter-of-fact that it brought the whole school thing rushing back to
the forefront of your mind, making you think that you'd hardly been
away. From his point of view this was a good thing - but it usually
sent my mind to daydream mode, and consequently anything he said from
that point onwards was completely skipped by my brain.
>From the sounds he was making, the headmaster was doing his usual
spiel about how the new term should be treated with a new approach
with study. In his opinion, the present term was always the most
important academically, regardless of which form you were in or what
subjects you were taking. True, the first couple of times you heard
this it did seem rather appropriate, however the lack of innovation
in this speech made it so that the point was soon lost amongst the
pupils' thoughts of "Not AGAIN..."
In fact, some parts of it were so repetitive that certain members of
the fifth form (a "bad year" according to the staff) could mouth
along to the headmaster's words, much to the amusement of their
peers.
I glanced over at the staff block to see the majority of them in the
same semi-comatose state as the pupils with one notable exception:
Russell. There he was, sat perfectly upright, almost getting off on
listening to the headmaster's pearls of wisdom. Weird bloke. Then he
spotted the group of comedians in the fifth form taking the piss out
of "our glorious leader". His icy stare shot across chapel like a
laser beam, knocking all fun clean out of them in the knowledge that
they hadn't cleared their first day without being put on Hard Labour.
According to the school's "Staff Handbook" (of which someone had
managed to swipe a copy) "all members of staff should clearly explain
to a pupil the reason why they are being punished (even if it is
obvious), the nature of their punishment and the time and location it
is to be executed."
The use of the word "execute" in this context wasn't far off for
Russell - he always managed to find a way to create the most
inconvenient and "painful" punishments possible and, without
exception, managed to get full co-operation from his colleagues:
Usually, if there was a games fixture or similar, this would take
priority over any punishments the other (i.e. non games staff) could
doll out - after all said pupil would be representing his school, and
him not turning up would be disgraceful, wouldn't it?
Russell had other plans. If a pupil had misbehaved, he deserved to be
disgraced, belittled and humiliated in as many ways as he could think
of. Being forced to miss a school Games Fixture was one of his
favourites as not only did he get first stab at finding a suitably
disagreeable task for the poor unfortunate to carry out, but also
could sit back and watch with that shiver-inducing sadistic half-
smile on his face as the poor boy's / girl's games master / mistress
had another go at them, making them feel even more shot up than
before.
I suppose that these punishments Russell dished out like bumper
stickers at a political rally could be justified if the crime fitted
the punishment, but that was rarely the case with "him". In all
likelyhood, the lads mouthing along to the Head Master's speech would
miss their next two Rugby matches, not wear casuals in their free
time for a month and be forced to sit in Russell's classroom whenever
they didn't have a lesson. Other staff would consider this an
inconvenience - them having to supervise a group of fifth formers.
But not Russell - he'd relish every minute of it knowing that as each
second passed, so did one of theirs and the more depressing and
downright inconvenient he could make it for them, the better - even
going to the lengths of making them write lines, a punishment
normally reserved for the very junior members of the school ("If
you're going to act like children then you'll be PUNISHED like
children!")
A loud kind of snorting snore suddenly punctuated the Headmaster's
drone causing everyone to leap from their semi-unconscious states,
heads whipping round to the staff block from where the noise had
originated. Mr. Curruthers' head was tilted all the way back, mouth
gaping, fast asleep. The deputy headmaster scooted over next to him
and gave him a sharp poke in the ribs. Curruthers woke with a start
(accompanied by a desperately loud yell) and looked round dazed. The
entire school burst into waves of laughter at the sight of one of the
staff doing exactly what each of us wanted to do, but daren't because
of the ever vigilant Russell. In fact, judging by the look on his
face, he wanted to punish the whole lot of us right now...
The head, unflustered, cleared his throat and decided to change tack
to get the school's attention as far back to him as he could. He
started welcoming all the new pupils and saying a little about each
of them - there were twin girls from Iceland, a lad from outer
London, two exchange students from South Africa and three brothers
from Oklahoma...
As he said this, Zac stood up from his seat, waved to the crowd in
general and said "Hi..." I felt Tay physically cringe next to me as
if all of Zac's embarrassment had been telepathically transferred to
him, and I couldn't help but smile...
The headmaster smiled weakly and motioned for him to sit back down
again. Zac returned to his seat as quickly as he'd stood up from it
with a "what'd I do?" look...
The rest of Chapel was unremarkable and blended into my mind as "just
another chapel" - bar, of course, Zac's extrovert self-
introduction... The first couple of periods that morning were a
tutorial session between you and your Tutor. Each pupil had a member
of staff assigned to him / her who was PERSONALLY responsible for
your wellbeing - physical, social and academic - and was answerable
to anyone as such. Your tutor was always associated with your house
in some way, usually as a master who'd take house duty at least once
a week, although there were a few who looked specifically after day
pupils who were tied to a house, even if they didn't stay there. The
whole house system provided a ground for friendly rivalry between
houses and provided a common goal for each member of the school. On
our way out of chapel, I stopped by yet another notice board, this
time indicating tutor assignments. As the phrase went - "A tutor is
for life, not just for Christmas" - your tutor stayed assigned to you
from the moment you joined the school until either you or he
(whichever came first!) left. I was lucky in that I had Curruthers as
my tutor - not that I needed a great deal of looking after, but it
was nice to have a friendly, open minded person to talk to...
As I'd expected, Tay had been assigned to Curruthers also - usually a
"guidee" was assigned the same tutor as their "guide" to make the
initial start at the school easier by having two easily accessible
people to stay in contact with, this being especially important to
the eleven-year-old First Year boarders: a school of two-hundred-and-
fifty can seem very big indeed at that age... I dragged Tay off in
the direction of Curruthers' classroom.
END OF PART ONE